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LIFE AND ADVENTURES 



OF 



"BILLY" DIXON 



OF 



ADOBE WALLS, TEXAS PANHANDLE 



Narrative in Which Is Described Many Things Relating 
to the Early Southwest, with an Account of the 
Fight Between Indians and Buffalo Hunters at 
Adobe Walls, and the Desperate Engage- 
ment at Buffalo Wallow, for which 
Congress voted the Medal 
of Honor to the 
Survivors. 



COMPILED BY 

Frederick S. Barde 

GUTHRIE, OKLAHOMA 



Copyright, 1914 
By MRS. OIvIVK DIXON 



PRINTED BY THE 

Co-Operative Publishing Co. 

GUTHRIE, OKLAHOMA 



APR 20 1914 

©CI.A371473 



f^rek^^ce: 



After many years, the solicitation of 
friends and early associates moved the sub- 
ject of this volume to consent to the pub- 
lication of such of his experiences on the 
frontier as he believed might be of interest 
to those persons who find pleasure in read- 
ing of the perils and hardships encountered 
in those far-off days by men and women who 
forsook the comforts of more civilized sur- 
roundings to risk their lives in making hab- 
itable the wilderness. 

The pioneers themselves were not in- 
clined to feel that their exploits were so ex- 
traordinary as to be of use in the making of 
books. Their long abode in silent places 
made them taciturn; and their lack of liberal 
knowledge of the rules of writing and their 
unwillingness to risk the appearance of con- 
ceit left them reluctant to relate their adven- 
tures for the printed page. 

Posterity, however, has a claim upon 
these fore-runners that may not be lightly 
thrust aside. The history of this struggle to 
subdue the wild places should be preserved 
and can be gathered only from the lips of the 



6 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

records of participants. In a few years the^ 
latter will have all vanished, as the frontier 
itself has faded into a memory. From camp 
fire tales have grown the legends of heroes. 

"I fear," said "Billy" Dixon, half humor- 
ously, "that the conquest of savagery in the 
Southwest was due more often to love of 
adventure than to any wish that cities should 
arise in the desert, or that the highways of 
civilization should take the place of the trails 
of the Indian and the buffalo. In fact, many of 
us believed and hoped that the wilderness 
would remain forever. Life there was to our 
liking. Its freedom, its dangers, its tax upon 
strength and courage, gave a zest to living 
especially to young men, unapproached by 
anything to be found in civilized communi- 
ties. Therefore, let it be said that if there 
was bravery and heroism, it came less by de- 
sign than it did from the emergencies of ac- 
cident and surroundings, and that usually it 
was spontaneous." 

Though a taciturn man, Mr. Dixon made 
strong friendships and entertained the warm- 
est affection for the men with whom he had 
been associated in pioneer days. Mr. W. B 
("Bat") Masterson, writing lately from New 
York City, said in an appreciative letter: 

"I first became acquainted with Billy 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 7 

Dixon on the buffalo range in the fall of 
1872 and continued to know him well and 
intimately for several years thereafter. The 
last time I saw him was at Sweetwater, a 
small hamlet just off the Military Reserva- 
tion at Fort Elliott, Texas, then called Can- 
tonment, in the spring of 1876. 

"Billy Dixon was a typical frontiersman 
of the highest order. The perils and hard- 
ships of border life were exactly suited to his 
stoical and imperturbable nature. This does 
not mean that Billy was not a kind-hearted, 
generous and hospitable man, for he pos- 
sessed all these admirable qualities to a high 
degree but he was cool, calculating and un- 
communicative at all times. 

"I was with Billy in the fight at Adobe 
Walls in June, 1874, between the buffalo- 
hunters and that fierce band of warriors com- 
posed of the best fighting men of the Chey- 
enne, Arapahoe, Comanche and Kiowa tribes, 
numbering fully one thousand braves. Billy 
and I occupied the same window the first 
day of the battle and I hope we did our 
share in the fight. Billy was an extraordi- 
nary fine shot with a buffalo-gun and he never 
overlooked an opportunity that first day to 
demonstrate his unerring aim whenever and 
wherever an Indian showed his head. We 



8 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

were scouts together afterwards in General 
Miles' command which left Fort Dodge, Kan- 
sas in the early part of August, the same year, 
for the Panhandle country where the hostiles 
were assembled in great numbers. While I 
was not with him, I am quite familiar with 
all the details of the fight in the buffalo wal- 
low on the north bank of the Washita River 
in which Billy and Amos Chapman and four 
soldiers stood off a large band of hostiles for 
an entire day. It was largely due to Billy's 
heroism on that occasion that the party was 
saved from complete annihilation." 

The publication of this volume was de- 
cided upon in the fall of 1912. Mr. Dixon was 
in vigorous health, and became greatly inter- 
ested in the undertaking. His memory was 
remarkable for its tenacity, which enabled him 
to recall the past with ease and accuracy. 

At our home on our claim in Cimarron 
County, I took down from his dictation the 
greater and the essential part of the present 
narrative. I kept note-books in every room, 
and sometimes carried them to the corral, 
that I might be in readiness to set down what 
my husband might say as he was moved by 
reflection or inquiry to talk of the past. Many 
of his pioneer friends learned of his plans, 
and encouraged him to persevere until the 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 9 

work should be accomplished. The material 
grew until there was an armful of manuscript, 
and the ground had been fairly covered. 

Little did we suspect that Death — the 
enemy from whom he had escaped so many 
times in the old days — was at hand, and that 
the arrow was set to the bow. During a 
winter storm early in 1913 he was suddenly 
stricken. He went unwillingly and complain- 
ingly to his bed, regretting that what he be- 
lieved was a trivial illness should pull down 
a man who never before had known a day's 
sickness. Pneumonia developed, and he ex- 
pired March 9, 1913, insisting with his last 
breath that he would recover. Interment 
took place in the cemetery at Texline, Texas, 
under the auspices of the local Masonic Lodge. 
Mr. Dixon for many years had been a con- 
sistent member of that order. 

In the publication of this volume, I wish 
to acknowledge my obligations to Mr. Freder- 
ick S. Barde, of Guthrie, Oklahoma, who com- 
piled the manuscript and carried the book 
through the press, and also to those pioneers 
of the Panhandle, Mr. Chas. Goodnight and 
Mr. James H. Gator, friends of many years, 
whose counsel and suggestions were helpful 
in many ways. 

Mrs. Olive Dixon. 



Life of ^'Billy" Dixon 



CHAPTER I. 



IN no other country could there have been 
found a region so inviting, so alluring, so 
fascinating, to the spirit of adventure as the 
Great Plains. How it gripped the imagina- 
tion of young men, sons of pioneers, between 
the Mississippi and the Alleghanies, in those 
early days! How it called to them, and beck- 
oned to them to forsake their homes and 
journey westward into the unknown! 

Vast and undisturbed, it stretched from 
the British Possession to the Rio Grande. It 
was a natural stage on which was enacted the 
most picturesque and romantic drama of the 
nineteenth century. Its background was the 
Rocky Mountains, from whose towering ram- 
parts the Plains swept down toward the east, 
giving an unobstructed view of the stirring 
panorama that for more than half a century 
was unrivalled for its scenes of daring and 
conquest. 

The Plains were marvelously adapted to 
the needs of uncivilized people, who derived 
their sustenance from the bounty of the wild- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 11 

erness and to the heavy increase and perpetu- 
ation of the animal life upon which they sub- 
sisted. Upon its level floors, enemies or game 
could be seen from afar, an advantage in 
both warfare and hunting. The natural 
grasses were almost miraculously disposed to 
the peculiarities of soil and climate, afford- 
ing the richest pasturage in the green of sum- 
mer and becoming even more nutritious as 
the seasons advanced toward the snows of 
winter. This insured the presence of enor- 
mous numbers of herbivorous animals, such 
as the buffalo, the antelope and the deer, from 
which the Indian derived his principal food 
and fashioned his garments and his shelter. 
His only toil was the chase with its splendid 
excitement, and his only danger the onslaught 
of tribal enemies. The climate was health- 
ful and invigorating. In all the world could 
not have been found a more delightful home 
for primitive men. 

That the Indian should have resisted with 
relentless and increasing ferocity every ef- 
fort to drive him from this paradise was nat- 
ural and justifiable from his point of view. 
In those days, he felt that to go elsewhere 
meant starvation and death for his family 
and tribe. Above all, he firmly believed that 
the country was his, as it had been from the 



12 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

beginning, and that the white man was cruel, 
merciless and wrong in depriving him of his 
old home — a home that the white man did 
not need and would not use. 

North and south across this gigantic stage 
the teeming animal life of the Plains, especial- 
ly the buffaloes moved regularly with the pro- 
cession of the equinoxes. The first grass of 
spring to which the Cheyennes gave the poetic 
name, mah-nah-see-tah — had scarcely made 
green the landscape before it was darkened 
with moving herds northward bound, in obed- 
ience to the primal instinct that pulses more 
deeply with the coming of spring. The pas- 
tures were endless, and the moist earth 
vibrant with the sounds of the fresh season. 
Exerywhere wild flowers were springing 
from the sod. The water-holes were full, and 
the sandy rivers flashing in the sunshine. 
Clouds of water-fowl swirled and descended 
upon the bars, to rest in their flight to their 
nesting grounds. The eagle in the sky and 
the lark in the grass were alike free to raise 
their young, far from the intrusion of man. 
The Indians, with their women, children, dogs 
and ponies, moving dimly on the far-off 
Plains, were native to the scene, and passed 
unnoticed by the other denizens of the soli- 
tude. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 13 

Once more the pageant of the wilderness 
moved on its mysterious way, this time from 
north to south. The storms of spring and 
summer had rolled their thunder through 
the solitude and reddened the sky with their 
lightning. The rains had spent themselves, 
me season of creation and growth had 
passed. The Plains were shaggy with brown 
grass. Soon frost would sharpen the air, and 
snow come on the cold winds and whiten the 
the earth. The buffaloes, the deer and the 
antelope had thicker and warmer coats; the 
bear was growing drowsy, and hunting his 
wmter cave; the wild turkey flashing a finer 
bronze; the prairie chicken, the crane, the 
mallard and the goose were fat and succulent 
beyond other days. 

Of all this domain the Indian was lord 
and master. There was none to dispute his 
sway. The stars in the sky were his night 
companions, and the sun his supreme bene- 
factor by day. All were his servants. His 
race multiphed and was happy. Food and 
shelter were to be found upon every hand. 
The white man had not come, bringing dis- 
ease and poverty. 

In savagery, a more delightful existence 
could not be found. What joy of physical 
livmg, with strength, health and contentment 



14 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

in every village. There were wars, to be 
sure, but feats of daring appealed to the 
brave, and there was love of fame and honor, 
just as there was inside the walled cities be- 
yond the Atlantic, where, from a comparative 
standpoint, men were less civilized than their 
western brothers who fought with bow and 
arrow, war club and tomahawk. 

The fruitful summers were given over to 
idling in pleasant places — in a village beside 
a stream, or in the foothills of the mountains. 
There was singing and dancing and the tell- 
ing of old tales. The women looked after 
the household, ever watchful of the little 
girls and the young women of marriageable 
age. The plaintive notes of the love-flute 
could be heard in the dusk of twilight. The 
warriors trained the boys and the young men 
in horsemanship and the use of arms, sub- 
jecting them to tests of physical endurance, 
fiwen pain, that they might grow to be strong, 
invincible men. 

There is something beyond description 
that clutches a man's heart and imagination 
in the Plains country. Whether it is the long 
sweep of the horizon, with its suggestion of 
infinity, touching upon melancholy, or that 
wide-arching expanse of sky, glittering by 
night and glorious by day, may not be de- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 15 

termined, yet no man is ever quite his former 
self after he has felt deeply the bigness, the 
silence and the mystery of that region. 

Trackless and boundless, the Great Plains 
at first offered to the adventurous traveler 
the many dangers that come from losing 
one's way in the wilderness. The sun and the 
stars were guides for direction, but not for 
water, wood and pasture. Travel was not 
made certain and continuous until countless 
feet and hoofs and wheels had worn trails. 
The making of trails is one of the most prim- 
itive acts of man, and it seems incredible that 
this should have been done within such rec- 
ent times in this country. The most noted of 
all these trails was the Santa Fe Road or 
Trail that led to Santa Fe, New Mexico, from 
Westport, Mo., where it was joined by smaller 
highways from points in the surrounding 
country. 

The heart swells with emotion at remem- 
brance of the wild, free life along those old 
trails, and knowledge that they have vanished 
forever brings a feeling of deep regret. Rail- 
roads, to be sure, meet modern needs, and 
have changed the wilderness into gardens, but, 
nevertheless, beyond and above all these de- 
mands of a higher civilization, with its com- 
merce and its feverish haste, remains the 



16 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

thought that something worth while has been 
lost, at least to those who found joy in brav- 
ing dangers and in overcoming the obstacles 
of primitive conditions. What a living, mov- 
ing, thrilling panorama stretched along the 
old trails! How vast the wealth that rolled 
past! 

The end came when the Santa Fe rail- 
road reached Raton in 1880. Thenceforward, 
wind and rain and the encroaching grass be- 
gan their work of obliteration. Only gashed 
river banks and scarred hillsides guard from 
the destroying years the last vestiges of what 
once were a nation's highways. The snow- 
swept summits of the Spanish Peaks look 
down no more upon the crawling ox-trains, 
nor does the swart Apache watch stealthily 
on Rabbit Ear Mountain to see if a weakly 
guardedt rain is coming down the Santa Fe 
Road. There are two pretty Spanish names 
for Spanish Peaks — "Las Cumbres Espanolas" 
and "Las dos Hermanas," (The Two Sisters). 
The Ute name is "Wahtoya" (The Twins). 



CHAPTER II. 

T WAS born in Ohio County, West Virginia, 
-■- September 25, 1850, the oldest of three 
children. My mother died when her third 
child was born. I was then ten years old. I 
believe that the earliest remembrances of one's 
mother make the deepest impression. In the 
few years that I received my mother's care, 
my character was given a certain trend that 
it never lost. My mother told me that I 
should always be kind to dumb animals, and 
especially to birds. In all my after life I 
never forgot her words. Often on the Plains 
and in the wilderness did I turn my horse 
or wagon aside rather than injure a road 
lizard or a terrapin that was unable to get 
out of the way. 

When I was twelve years old my father 
died, and with my sister I went to live with 
my uncle, Thomas Dixon, who lived in Ray 
County, Missouri. In those days travel was 
difficult, and Missouri seemed a long way 
from our home in W^est Virginia. We had 
been with our uncle only a few months when 
my sister was stricken with typhoid fever, 
and died after an illness of about two weeks. 
This left me alone in the world. My uncle 

2D 



18 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

was kind and good to me, but I stayed with 
him only a year. I was a strong, rugged 
boy, unwilling to be dependent upon even a 
kinsman for my living, and with much reso- 
lution I decided to seek my own fortune. 

While at my uncle's home I had often 
met men who had been to the far west, and 
their marvelous tales of adventure fired my 
imagination, and filled me with eagerness to 
do what they had done. My dreams were 
filled with beautiful pictures of that dim reg- 
ion that lay toward the Rocky Mountains. 

In those days no traveler undertook this 
westward journey without a horse and a gun. 
I was penniless, and the purchase of these 
necessities seemed utterly beyond my re- 
sources. 

I had formed the acquaintance of a boy 
named Dan Keller, several years older than 
myself, and also without father or motiier. 
Many times had we talked of the wild coun- 
try where game abounded and Indian war- 
riors rode as free as the wind. That we 
should go was as inevitable as the coming of 
the grass in spring or the falling of leaves in 
autumn. My uncle would have been greatly op- 
posed to our enterprise had we told him of 
it, so I went away without telling him good 
bve. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 19 

Having no horses, Dan and I started on 
foot, and in place of guns we had only cour- 
age and our chubby fists. In a sack on my 
back I carried my one extra shirt and my 
mother's photograph. The latter I treasured 
beyond all my other possessions. Making our 
way to the Missouri River we fell in with 
some wood choppers who were supplying 
with fuel the steamboats that in those days 
plied that river. The camps of these wood 
choppers were found at frequent intervals 
along the shore. The men were rough but 
generous and hospitable, and we were wel- 
comed at their camps, many of which we 
reached at night-fall. We hunted and trap- 
ped up and down the river for several months, 
often staying in one camp for a couple of 
weeks. 

We were beginning to see the world and 
to find adventure. Around the campfires at 
night the wood choppers told of their ex- 
ploits in the west — of how they had hunted 
the grizzly bear, the buffalo, the panther, 
the deer and the antelope, of how they had 
been caught in the howling blizzards, of their 
narrow escapes from drowning in swollen 
rivers, and of the battles they had fought with 
hostile Indians. Many times we sat and list- 
ened until midnight, the rush of the river 



20 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

sounding in our ears, and then after we had 
gone to bed we lay looking at the stars and 
wondering if it would ever be possible for 
us to lead such a delightful life. 

Following the wood cutters' camps up 
the great river we finally reached Westport, 
Missouri, near where Kansas City now stands. 
We arrived there on Sunday, October 23, 1864, 
just as a big battle was being fought between 
the Union army under General Alfred S. 
Pleasanton and the Confederate army under 
General Stirling Price. We could hear the 
roar and boom of the cannon and see the 
clouds of smoke rising in the sky. Dan and 
I would have enlisted on the spot had we 
not been too young. But the smoke of bat- 
tle got into our nostrils, and we were more 
determined than ever to reach the far west 
and fight Indians. 

Proceeding northwest, we crossed the 
Kaw Biver and found ourselves in Kansas. 
At that time there were a few warehouses 
along the banks of the Missouri Biver where 
the Kansas City stock yards are now situated. 
We halted a day or two at the little town of 
Wyandotte. I remember how the surround- 
ing country was filled with mink, raccoon, 
rabbits, opossums, squirrels, quail and prairie 
chickens. This was greatly to our liking, so 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 21 

Dan and I hired to an old farmer near Wyan- 
dotte, and remained with him a couple of 
months. 

The first signs of spring were now in the 
air, and like the wild geese that were passing 
northward, we resumed our migration. At 
the end of many weary miles we reached 
Leavenworth, Kansas, and after forming the 
acquaintance of an old plainsman named Tom 
Hare, fire and brimstone could not have 
turned us back, so determined did we become 
to plunge deep into the wild country that 
lay beyond us. Hare was a driver in a Gov- 
ernment bull train. 

Drifting into town hungry and foot-sore, 
I will never forget this old man's kindness. 
He took us to a railroad mess house — the 
Kansas Pacific grading camp was then at 
Leavenworth — and gave us our breakfast. 
While we were eating the old man watched 
us attentively and seemed pleased with our 
appearance. In a moment he was telling us 
of some of his trips in the west, which was 
like setting out fire in dry stubble. He said 
that the outfit or bull train to which he be- 
longed was in camp about four miles from 
town. It was in need of hands, and if we 
wanted to go on the next trip he would help 
us get employment, advising us to remain 



'22 Liii: 01 "Billy" Dixon 

with him until the bull train was ready to 
start. The outtit was waiting for winter to 
break up. 

We immediately became the old man's 
staunch triends and ardent admirers. We 
went out to the camp and when we were 
taken to the boss, he eyed us carefully and 
said: "You boys are pretty young, and Hill 
looks like he ought to be at home with his 
mother, but I'll give you a chance." So he 
hired us then and there at 'f5() a month, with 
everything Furnished, including guns and am- 
munition. Dan and 1 were innnensely proud 
of ourselves, and looked forward to the 
journey with eager expectancy. 1 was only 
fourteen years old, but delighted with the 
prospect that at last 1 should begin the jour- 
ney across the Plains. 

We got orders about April 15 to pull out 
for Fort Scott, Kansas. We moved by easy 
marches and reported to the quartermaster 
when we reached Fort Scott. He ordered the 
outtit to go into camp a few miles from 
town on a small stream where there was 
good grass and water for the stock. There 
we were to await further orders. We were 
in camp for two weeks, and all we had to do 
was to look after the stock, which we did 
in turns. The stream abounded in fish, and 



Adobe Walls, Tlxas Panhandle 23 

everywhere there was lots of small game. 
These were among the happiest days of my 
life. Because of my youth, the men favored 
me in many ways. I hunted and fished to 
my heart's content. 

I was disappointed that the bull train 
had been sent south instead of west, but 
still hoped the order would soon come for 
us to move toward the Plains. This was in 
April, 1864, and in southern Kansas the news 
of President Lincoln's assassination had just 
been received. I recall that on our way to 
Fort Scott a black flag of mourning hung on 
every settler's farmhouse. 

One morning about the first of May there 
was shouting among the men, the rattling of 
chains, the creaking of heavy wagons, and 
the lowing of oxen, as we assembled under 
orders to proceed to Fort Leavenworth. We 
moved away in high spirits across the beau- 
tiful country, bright and fragrant with the 
wild flowers of spring. Lawrence was the 
first town of importance that we reached. 

It was the custom of the bull-whackers 
to make a lively demonstration whenever they 
passed through a town. With their big six- 
teen foot whips they could make a sound like 
the crack of a rifle, and as rapidly as possi- 
ble the whips were cracked, the drivers shout- 



24 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

ing to their oxen, while men, women and 
children ran into the street to witness the 
spectacle. It was a performance that every- 
body thoroughly enjoyed, and which never 
again will be seen in this western country. 

In two days from Lawrence we came to 
Leavenworth City, about three or four miles 
south of Fort Leavenworth. Here we made 
the same uproar. Liquor was more plentiful 
than water at Leavenworth in those days, and 
many of the bull-whackers "tanked up." There 
was a big noise all the way to the fort. 

Between Lawrence and Leavenworth the 
country was well settled, and every farm- 
yard was filled with chickens, turkeys, ducks 
and geese, many of which disappeared about 
the time we passed that way. Of course I 
would not be willing to admit that I helped 
steal any of them, but it would be useless for 
me to say that I did not help eat from many 
a well-filled pot. A fat pig that strayed near 
our camp rarely ever got back home. It is 
but just to say, however, that this taking of 
private property was done largely in a spirit 
of mischief, as these rough bull-whackers 
could not have been induced to engage in 
what would have been regarded as actual 
stealing. 

This outfit was made up of men of var- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 25 

ious ages and occupations. Some had been 
soldiers, and several had been sailors. I rev- 
eled in the stories told by the old gray haired 
men. I believe that I liked best of all their 
stories about fighting Indians. 

Like all frontier towns, Leavenworth City 
was well supplied with saloons. It is not 
surprising that in the West most men drank, 
as the saloon was the main starting place 
for an outfit like ours, and a man who did 
not take at least one drink was considered 
unfriendly. I wish to emphasize this last 
word, for my statement is literally true. In- 
viting a man to drink was about the only 
way civility could be shown, and to refuse an 
invitation bordered upon an insult. Again, 
the saloon was the place where all trails 
crossed, and there we might be sure of meet- 
ing men from the north, from the west and 
the south, and gaining information that was 
so essential to those who were journeying in- 
to far off places. 

The outfit was ordered into camp near 
the fort, with everybody planning for the 
westward trip. Our chagrin and disappoint- 
ment may be imagined when we learned that 
the whole train was to be sold by the Gov- 
ernment, to which it belonged. The country 
was now green with growing grass, and the 



26 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

cattle were getting sleek and fat. The order- 
ly came and told us to assemble the train in 
front of the quartermaster's oflice. The wag- 
ons were strung out one after the other until 
they formed a line half a mile in length. An 
auctioneer stood in front of the building and 
cried the sale; as soon as one wagon and 
team was sold another took its place. The 
teams were bought in at from $1600 to $1800 
each, wagons included, and the twenty-five 
wagons and three hundred bulls were bought 
by one man; his name was Kirkendall. He 
had been master of transportation at Fort 
Leavenworth. Kirkendall hired our train- 
master, and he in turn hired all the men who 
wanted to remain with the outfit. About half 
the men quit, and their places were filled 
fresh bull-whackers. Some of the latter had 
never seen a bull train, and had lots to learn. 

By this time I had begun feeling that I 
was an old hand. When I was first employed 
I found it difficult to yoke my oxen, but my 
small size appealed to the men, and there 
was always somebody willing to help me. I 
was now able to yoke my own oxen. 

We lay in camp wondering where Kirk- 
endall would send us. In a few days orders 
came for us to pull out for Fort Collins, Col- 
orado, with government supplies. I bubbled 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 27 

over with joy, for now I was headed for the 
Plains. Kirkendall received twenty-five cents 
a pound for the freight he took out. Each 
wagon was loaded with about seven hun- 
dred pounds of freight, consisting of flour, 
bacon, sugar, coftee, ammunition, etc. This 
outfit was made up of twenty-five teamsters, 
one wagon master, one assistant wagon mas- 
ter, one night herder, and one extra man to 
take^ the place of any man that might fall 
sick. Each man was provided with a gun and 
ammunition. 

Before hiring to Kirkendall, we had been 
paid off, and I had more money than I had 
ever dreamed I would possess at one time. 
According to the custom of the country, and 
not without some inclination and vanity of 
my own, I began investing in good clothes, 
notably a big sombrero, a Colt's revolver, a 
butcher knife, a belt, and a bull whip. For 
the latter I paid $7. His whip was the bull- 
whacker's pride, and around it circles all 
his ambition and prowess. Dan bought a 
similar outfit. I doubt if two boys ever felt 
more important. I am sure that the older 
men must have smiled at the two youngsters, 
each buried beneath his big hat and leaning 
to one side under the weight of his "shooting 
irons." How impatient we were for the start! 




1 — i 

5 



7 






Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 29 

The days seemed to stretch into months. At 
last, however, we were ready, and whooping 
farewells, we pulled out. 

Little did we dream of the hardships 
ahead of us. In the comfort of our winter 
camp we had seen ourselves traveling across 
the Plains in the bright sunshine of spring, 
the grass green, the birds singing, and the 
streams flashing along the way. The winter 
rains and frosts had made the roads miry 
and seemingly without bottom. We had gone 
along without serious trouble until we reached 
Salt Creek valley. Here we had to pass 
through a long lane where the mud was hub 
deep. We did not realize how bad it was 
until we were well into the lane. Often we 
were compelled to put twenty-four oxen to 
one wagon to pull through some of the bad 
places. This valley was three or four miles 
wide, and it took us all day to get across. A 
man's patience was thoroughly tried, and that 
day I heard more different kinds of swearing 
than could be put into a dictionary. After 
getting out we laid over all next day resting 
and making repairs. One wagon was sent 
back to Leavenworth City for material to re- 
pair things that had been broken. In Salt 
Creek valley was pointed out to me a small 



30 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

road in which was said to be Buffalo Bill's 
old home. 

The road grew better in the neighborhood 
of Maysville, Kansas, on the Big Blue, where 
there were a good many settlers. We were 
making between eight and ten miles a day. 
The Big Blue is a swift stream, and at the 
time was in flood, which caused us much 
trouble in crossing, as cattle do not take well 
to water, especially when pulling loaded wag- 
ons. We doubled our teams, cracked our 
whips, and forced the reluctant oxen into the 
torrent with a man on horseback swimming 
on each side of them, and in this way they 
swam and struggled to the further shore. 
Often the oxen were in danger of drowning, 
but the whole outfit was crossed without the 
loss of a single animal. 

At this crossing the river made a bend, 
and the road took the direction of what was 
called the "dry" route. So we filled our can- 
teens with water and left the river about 
three o'clock in the afternoon, driving until 
late that night, and making a dry camp. Next 
day brought us to the Little Blue, a tribu- 
tary of the Big Blue. From there our route 
bore more to the north, going upstream, and 
in about three days we were in sight of Fort 
Kearney, Nebraska, and from there by mak- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 31 

ing a long drive, we got to the Platte River in 
one day. 

All the while since leaving Fort Leaven- 
worth I had been tense with the expectation 
of seeing a war party of painted Indians, or 
a herd of buffaloes sweeping over the Plains. 
Neither had come to pass, and I was keenly 
disappointed. 

When we got to the Platte, we struck a 
main traveled road leading out from Omaha, 
Nebraska, St. Joseph, Missouri, and Atchison, 
Kansas. These three towns were the main 
shipping points on the Missouri River at that 
time. Here we could see trains moving along 
or in camp on the road. Our route led straight 
up the valley, and in two days we reached a 
stage station called Plum Creek, where in 
later years hostile Indians committed many 
depredations. There seemed to be something 
in the very air at Plum Greek that was dif- 
ferent from what we had left behind. A feel- 
ing of danger, invisible but present, all of 
which was manifested when an escort of 
United States soldiers moved out ahead of us 
when the bull train started. 

This meant that we were in a dangerous 
locality. In my boyish enthusiasm I was de- 
lighted instead of being fearful, for it looked 
as if we were going into the enemies' coun- 



32 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

try, and from all indications we were, for 
we could see where the Indians had raided 
the settlements the previous year. At dif- 
ferent places where there had been a road 
ranch or a small store, their ruins told the 
tale of fire and rapine by savage Indians. 
These buildings were built mostly of sod, as 
there was no timber in the country. Here 
and there we passed a grave at the side of 
the road. The raiding had been done by the 
Sioux. Practically the only buildings in this 
part of the country were the way stations and 
home stations of the overland stage company 
which ran from the Missouri River to Cali- 
fornia. 

After leaving Julesburg, Nebraska, the 
country became much wilder. We saw great 
herds of antelope and many deer. I was im- 
patient for the sight of buffaloes, and it 
seemed strange to me that none had appeared. 
As a matter of fact they had not worked that 
far north, but were coming later. All along 
the road after we got on the overland stage 
route, the stage drivers, who always drove in 
a gallop as they passed us, would cry out 
"Indians on ahead! Better look out!" This 
we found was done jokingly, to alarm such 
tenderfeet as might be among us, and we soon 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 33 

paid no attention to it, when we encountered 
no Indians. 

Julesburg consisted of a couple of stores 
and two or three saloons. Here we got a 
fresh escort of soldiers. Between Plum Creek 
and Julesburg we passed a big square stone 
on which was inscribed "Daniel Boone" and 
other inscriptions, one saying that further in- 
formation could be found on the other side, 
meaning the bottom. This stone was so big 
that twelve men could not move it. We saw 
where teams had been hitched to it and the 
stone overturned. We did the same thing, 
and found the same inscription on the bot- 
tom. I doubt if ever a bull train passed that 
way without turning that big boulder to sat- 
isfy its curiosity. 

Three days out from Julesburg we left 
the Platte, and struck a trail called the dry 
route, at what was known as Freeman's Or- 
chard. There was no sign of an orchard, 
however. The South Platte had to be forded, 
and it was a different stream from any we 
had crossed. We stood in dread of it, as 
the current was swift and its shores rocky. 
It took us a whole day to get over, and some 
wagons had to be partly unloaded. 

There were only three horses in the out- 
fit, used by the wagon master, his assistant, 

3D 



34 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

and the night herder. They were a great 
help to us in crossing these streams, as the 
cattle would follow the horses when no 
amount of whipping could make them take 
the bad place. Traveling north, we came to 
the "Gash la Poole," a beautiful mountain 
stream in Colorado, beyond which was Fort 
Collins, which we reached in August, being 
on the road two and one-half months. 

I now saw mountains for the first time. 
Fort Collins was situated on the "Cash la 
Poole" in the foothills. Long before we got 
there they seemed to hang in the sky like 
clouds. The population of Fort Collins was 
mostly post traders and soldiers. We remain- 
ed there about a week, unloading supplies 
and resting the stock. While there I visited 
an Indian camp and saw my first Indians. 
They were Utes, and greatly interested me. 
The squaws were drying wild cherries for 
winter, pounding them in a stone mortar. The 
day before we left Fort Collins a fight took 
place in our camp between two bull-whackers, 
Edward Ray and Jim Lynch, over a game of 
cards. Ray shot Lynch, and the latter was 
left in the hospital at Fort Collins. 

Our trip back to Fort Leavenworth was 
over the same route. My journey had fasci- 
nated me, but I was disappointed in not hav- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 35 

ing engaged in a fight with Indians, and in 
not having seen a single buffalo. Going back 
we were trailing three or four wagons to- 
gether, and drove the rest of the oxen, taking 
turns with the teams. 

Between Julesburg and Plum Creek we 
met a party of women on their way to Salt 
Lake City, Utah, to join the Mormons. There 
was not a man among them, and they could 
not speak a word of English. I was told 
that they were Danes. All the women wore 
wooden shoes. They drove ox-wagons and 
had the appearance of being very poor. The 
sight of these women so excited our curiosity 
that the trainmaster called a halt until they 
passed us. Their camp was not a great distance 
from ours, and that night some of the boys 
wanted to go and pay them a visit, but the 
trainmaster told them that if they did not 
want to get left they had better not go. 

There were small stores or road ranches, 
as they were called, all along the route, gen- 
erally every ten miles, and often we bought 
at our own expense such luxuries as sweet- 
meats and canned goods which were not to 
be found in our commissary. Tomatoes sold 
at fifty cents a can, and everything else was 
in proportion. When we got back as far as 
Maysville we could buy fresh vegetables and 



36 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

geese and chickens by paying a big price for 
them; but in those days no price was too 
great to be paid by hungry men. Money was 
plentiful and if we could get what we wanted, 
we bought it, regardless of what it cost. 

As we approached Leavenworth City, we 
were met by men soliciting trade for the ho- 
tels, stores and saloons, who came out eight 
or ten miles to meet us. At the fort our 
wagons were parked, or formed in a square, 
to be left there for the winter, and the oxen 
were taken to the country to be fed. By the 
time we were ready to break camp, hacks and 
wagons were coming out to take us down 
town, each business house being represented. 
We had drawn practically none of our wages 
during the trip, and when we were paid, many 
of us felt rich, and had enough to carry us 
through the winter if we were not extrava- 
gant. 

November had arrived and the weather 
was getting cold. There are few sights more 
chilling and somber than the Plains in winter, 
stretching brown and dead under a leaden sky, 
with the wind moaning and roaring from 
the north. We could have found jobs with 
other outfits, as trains were being fitted out 
for western forts, to both Fort Lyon and Fort 
Riley. Dan and I would have gone as bull- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 37 

whackers with these, but were advised by old- 
er men not to go, as it would be a hard 
trip in winter storms and blizzards. Dan and 
I remained together for a week, enjoying the 
sights. He decided to go back to his old home 
in Indiana, where he could be with his par- 
ents during the winter. Strangely, I never 
afterwards heard of or saw him. 

In returning from Fort Collins, I had 
become strongly attached to another young 
fellow named Johnny Baldwin. We were to- 
gether in the street one day when we met 
up with the master of a bull-train that was 
getting ready to start to Fort Larned. He was 
a gruff old codger, and looked as rusty as 
a six-shooter that had lain all winter in the 
snow. He asked us to go with him, and we 
would have gone if we had not struck a bet- 
ter job that very day. After we had told him 
that we would decide by next day, we wan- 
dered into the street. There we met a man 
who caught our fancy beyond all others we 
had seen. He was a jolly, good natured fel- 
low, who joked with us, and said that he 
would like to hire us to go with a govern- 
ment mule train that was outfitting. He said 
that we would get to see "lots of corn-fed 
country girls" out in the country where the 
mules were being fed for the winter. He of- 



38 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

fered us each $45 a month, and we hired to 
him on the spot. 

This proved to be a much easier job 
than the one we had just left. The outfit con- 
sisted of about 150 head of mules that had 
been driven to a farm on Soldiers' Creek, 
about 60 miles from Leavenworth, near 
where Holden, Kas., now stands. Here we re- 
mained all winter. About all I had to do 
was to help the cook and round in 
the mules at night. We had an abundance of 
good things to eat, and grew fat and "sassy." 

When the men discovered that I was a 
good shot, I was given a job that was whol- 
ly to my liking — hunting game for the mess. 
There were plenty of quails, rabbits, squirrels 
and prairie chickens, and I was in my glory. 
I ranged the country, a youthful Daniel 
Boone, enjoying every moment of the time. 
I seemed to have a natural aptitude in the 
handling of fire-arms. It was my greatest 
ambition to become a good shot. In later 
years I was counted an expert marksman in 
any company, regardless of how proficient my 
rivals might be. I always attributed my skill 
with the rifle to my natural love for the sport, 
to steady nerves, and to constant, unremitting 
practice. Where other men found pleasure in 
cards, horse-racing and other similar amuse- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 39 

ments, I was happiest when ranging the open 
country with my gun on my shoulder and a 
dog at my heels, far out among the wild birds 
and the wild animals. 

In the neighborhood of our camp were 
a good many settlers, sturdy, strong people, 
who lived in the style of the frontier, and, 
I dare say, got much more contentment out 
of life than many who came after them and 
lived under more civilized conditions. Dur- 
ing the winter, dances and parties were fre- 
quent, and we were hospitably invited to at- 
tend them. I went with the men, but was 
entirely too bashful to take part. I sat be- 
side the fiddlers and looked at the pretty girls, 
rosy and blushing, and would have given a 
fortune — had I possessed one — for courage 
enough to walk boldly up to the handsomest, 
ask her to dance with me, and be able to 
dance without making blunders as the figures 
were called. Alas, such courage and assur- 
ance was quite beyond my strongest resolves. 
I remember, particularly, one black-eyed girl 
who observed my embarrassment, and would 
always speak to me and invite me to take 
part. I adored her for this, but would have 
fled like an antelope had she approached me. 

Along about the first of March we got 
orders to take the mules to Leavenworth. We 



40 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

were elated at the prospect of change. Where 
were we going? How long would we be 
gone? What would be our adventures? 
These were questions that came to us thick 
and fast. This was one of the splendid 
things of life in frontier days — this eagerness 
to be off and away after a season of hiber- 
nation. Many a hunter, many a scout, many 
a cowboy, returning from a long and arduous 
expedition, would swear that never again 
would he endure misery and hardships such 
as he had encountered. All winter he would 
stay close to the cook and roast his shins 
beside the fire, dead sure that he was forever 
done with the roving life. Then, one day, 
came the honking of wild geese flying north- 
ward; the sun grew warmer; the grass was 
springing green around the buffalo chips in 
the prairie, and in the draws the redbud was 
lifting itself in little pink clouds. Farewell to 
all firm resolves! A span of oxen could not 
have held the plainsman in the quarters 
which he had believed to be the most de- 
lightful place in the world, when he arrived 
there in the fall. Something was calling him 
— something in the wind, the sky and the 
dashing rain — and he went, went like a bird 
from its cage. 

The day we broke camp a "norther" be- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 41 

gan blowing, and 1 froze two of my fingers 
rather badly. We traveled 35 or 40 miles 
the first day, the mules going at a gallop 
part of the time. We reached Fort Leaven- 
worth next day, and delivered our mules to 
the corral-master, after which we went to 
the Government mess house, where our ap- 
petites attracted considerable attention and 
caused no less comment. 

The quartermaster paid us our accumu- 
lated wages. We were now without a job. 
A friendship had grown up between myself 
and a man named Bill Gladden. The two of 
us went from the Fort to the city, and re- 
mained there about three weeks, attracted 
by the curious sights to be seen daily in the 
coming and going of the brawny multitudes 
of men who gave to that town a historic in- 
terest. 

The manager of the farm where 1 had 
spent the winter was named McGall. His 
family seemed to feel much affection for me. 
His son, Charley, and 1 became fast friends. 
McCall offered me a job, which Gladden ad- 
vised me to accept, as he felt that 1 was 
rather young to be fighting my way against 
the odds that often overthrew strong men in 
the Plains Country. This, however, was not 
what 1 wanted to do. 1 had made up my 



42 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

mind to go west — and to keep on going west 
until I could say that I had seen it all, and 
had hunted buii'aloes and fought Indians to 
my complete satisfaction. Little did I dream 
of how much of this sort of thing was in 
store for me in later years. The McCalls 
were so persuasive however, that I could not 
resist their kind offers, and I remained on 
the farm about a year. During all this time 
Mrs. McGall was a mother to me, and the 
family treated me as if I were a son and a 
brother. I am sure that the good influences 
of this home were helpful to me in after 
life. 

I worked for the McCalls until the fall of 
1866. In July a number of horses were stolen 
from the barn, and my employer gave me the 
place of night watchman, a responsible po- 
sition for a boy of my age. I had the great- 
est confidence, however, in my ability to use 
my rifle in a way that would be disastrous to 
thieves. I did not lose a single horse. 

The McCalls had two girls and one boy, 
Charley. The latter was wild and reckless, 
but good-hearted and eager for any kind of 
adventure. Once he had run away from home 
and gone west with a Government mule train. 
Old man McCall was a great hand to hunt, 
and often took me wdth him on his hunting 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 43 

trips. I always thought that he felt a bit 
provoked at me when his folks teased him 
about my killing the most game, but he 
laughed it off, and would brag on me him- 
self. 

That fall the McGalls told me that if I 
wished to remain and go to school during 
the winter, my board would not cost me a 
cent. I was glad to take advantage of this 
offer, so Charley and I walked to town every 
day to school — the two girls attended a Cath- 
olic boarding school. Prior to this, I had at- 
tended school only two terms. Plainly, my 
school days were limited. 

I did my best to keep Charley out of 
trouble, and am sure that I exerted a good 
influence over him, as he would nearly al- 
ways listen to me. Despite my utmost en- 
deavors, he engaged in a number of fights at 
school, which caused his parents more or 
less trouble. During all our acquaintance 
Charley and I never spoke a harsh word to 
each other. 

While I was living with the McCalls a 
shocking tragedy took place at their home. 
— the suicide of United States Senator James 
Lane of Kansas. He was visiting there at the 
time he killed himself. Mrs. Lane and Mrs. 
McCall were sisters. The Senator was in poor 



44 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

health. While riding with his wife and child- 
ren, he thrust the muzzle of a six-shooter into 
his mouth, and pulled the trigger. The bul- 
let came out at the top of his head. Strange 
to say, he lived three days. I was with the 
ambulance that was sent out to convey him 
to Leavenworth, where he could receive med- 
ical aid. Senator Lane was a Kansas pioneer, 
and took an active and leading part in the 
conduct of its early affairs. 

Leavenworth City was a tough place in 
those days, filled with all kinds of rough 
characters. I saw three men lying dead in 
the street one day, as the result of an ex- 
traordinary occurrence. Four men were sit- 
ting under a tree playing cards, as a severe 
electric storm formed and swept over the city. 
One man suggested that the game should be 
postponed until after the storm had passed, 
to which another replied, "D n the light- 
ning." At that moment a bolt struck the tree 
with a blinding flash, killing all of the men 
save the one that had asked that there be 
no card-playing while the storm was raging. 
The bodies of the dead men were laid on the 
floor of the fire station. Their deaths caused 
much comment, as many persons felt that 
they had provoked the wrath that fell upon 
them. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 45 

Shootings were as common as the arrival 
of a bull-train, and excited little comment. 
The man who was quickest on trigger usually 
came out ahead— the other fellow was buried, 
and no questions asked. 



CHAPTER III. 

WHEN the spring of 1867 came around, I 
was offered my old job on the farm, and 
Mrs. McCall, a kind, good woman, used all her 
influence to get me to accept it. But my 
head was filled with dreams of adventure 
in the Far West. Always, I could see the 
West holding its hands toward me, and beck- 
oning and smiling. 

Meeting a Government train-master named 
Simpson, who was hiring men to go out with 
a train that was to be shipped by railroad as 
far as Fort Harker, I forgot all that Mrs. Mc- 
Call had said to me about staying on the 
farm, and hired to Simpson. Returning to 
the farm, I told my good friends good-bye. 

The Kansas Pacific railroad had now been 
built as far west as Fort Harker. All our 
wagons and harness were new and these, to- 
gether with the mules, were loaded into cars 
and shipped to Fort Harker. We went into 
camp close to the Fort. 

In this outfit were a good many raw men, 
while the mules were known as "shave-tails," 
which meant wild, unbroken mules; only a 
few had been harnessed and driven. By this 
time I could handle a team with as much 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 47 

ease as a man could. In my lot were two 
or three gentle mules — I have cause to re- 
member one old fellow in particular, upon 
whose back I afterwards had one of the most 
exciting rides of my life. 

We put in ten days breaking the "shave- 
tails." It was a scene of hilarious excitement, 
and not without danger, as often mules would 
be kicking and bucking in harness with might 
and main, while others would be running 
away. At such times the drivers had no time 
to pay attention to other things. 

While in this camp, cholera began raging 
at Fort Marker, which struck terror to many 
who stood in no fear of other dangers to 
life. Many of our men deserted, and two 
died of the dread disease. I witnessed the 
death of one of our men, Frinkum, and shall 
never forget his agony. Men who were ap- 
parently in the full vigor of health at sun- 
rise lay dead by night. The authorities kept 
the number of dead secret as much as pos- 
sible. The burials were usually at night. 

This epidemic of death extended from 
Fort Marker, Kansas, to Fort Union, New Mex- 
ico. Its origin was said to have been in the 
Tenth Cavalry, a negro command, which had 
shipped from the East to the western frontier. 
Now, all this excitement did not bother me 



48 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

a bit — I did not think much about it. The 
doctors made regular calls at our camp every 
day, and we were placed on a strict diet. We 
were forbidden to eat any kind of vegetable 
or fresh meat. The disease ran its course in 
about three weeks. 

Alas, and again alas, up to this time I 
had never seen a buffalo! I could almost 
taste buffalo, so keen was I to behold one of 
these shaggy monsters, pawing the sandy 
plain, throwing dust high in air, and shaking 
his ponderous head at his enemies, defying 
them to battle. 

The Government here issued a new lot 
of arms and ammunition to us. This looked 
warlike, and was greatly to my liking. The 
guns were the Sharpe's carbine, carrying a 
linen cartridge, with which was used the 
"army hat" cap. In addition, we were given 
a six-shooter Remington, cap and ball pistol. 
These were the very latest arms. 

Now^ came an eventful, a momentous 
morning, 1 had just crawled from under my 
blankets and was feeding my mules. Glanc- 
ing to the northwest, I saw a lone object on 
the plains. At the moment the object ap- 
parently failed to make an impression upon 
my mind, and 1 turned toward my mules. 
Then I jumped as if I had been stung by a 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 49 

hornet. With eyes distended, I whirled and 
looked again at the lone object on the Plains. 
My body was vibrating as if touched by a 
dynamo. 

A buffalo!' No mistake about it. There 
he stood, rather far off and dim. Maybe 
he had been waiting for me all these years, 
waiting for me to see him. That was my 
buffalo. I determined that I should get him, 
even if I had to twist my fingers in his shaggy 
mane and drag him alive into camp. 

Seizing a blind-bridle, I slipped it onto 
the gentle old mule to which I referred in 
an earlier page, made a dash for my rifle 
and rode away bareback and at top speed 
after the buffalo. 

The buffalo had turned and was moving 
away from camp when he caught sight of 
the boy on the mule riding wildly toward him. 
With a flip of his tail, the buffalo struck his 
rocking-chair gait and went lumbering away. 
Up and down hills and across gullies he gal- 
loped. I was hat behind him, and at times 
was just at the point of getting range, only 
to see the buffalo increase his speed and spoil 
my shot. 

We had consumed about eight miles in 
this sort of thing, when we came to a smooth 
flat. My old mule was panting and pretty 

4D 



50 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

well winded by this time, but I was able to 
make him take another spurt in speed. This 
brought me within range. The buffalo fell 
dead at the first shot. The explosion scared 
the mule into hysteria, but his was no worse 
than mine. I had not only killed a buffalo, 
but had killed, unaided, the first buffalo I 
ever saw. 

By this time three or four men from the 
outfit had arrived. They were jubilant over 
my success, and were kind enough to exag- 
gerate the distance of the shot. The buffalo 
was a hard animal to kill instantly, as a vital 
spot had to be struck. We skinned the car- 
cass, and each man cut off a chunk of meat 
and took it back to camp. Greatly to our 
disgust, not a mouthful were we allowed to 
cook or eat, because of the cholera quaran- 
tine. 

A few days later orders were given to 
load the wagons with Government supplies 
for Fort Hayes, Kansas, 90 odd miles west 
of Fort Marker. By this time our "shave- 
tail" mules were under fairly good control, 
and we got under headway without much 
trouble. 

On this trip, at a distance, we saw a 
bunch of Indian warriors, but did not come 
in contact with them. In my lack of ex- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 51 

perience I was eager for the fray, and was 
disappointed when I saw the war party dis- 
appear over a long ridge, without my having 
been able to test my marksmanship and my 
new Sharpe's rifle. Buffaloes were seen in 
numbers, and I was lucky enough to kill 
several "on my own hook." We reached Fort 
Hayes in about four days, and returned to 
Fort Marker in about the same time. 

Fort Hayes was garrisoned mostly with 
negro soldiers. No buildings had been erected 
at that time, and we unloaded our supplies 
in the open prairie, where guards had been 
stationed to protect them. The timber for 
the buildings was being hauled from Fort 
Harker. 

Our next trip was to Fort Wallace, with 
Government supplies, the distance being con- 
siderably greater than from Fort Harker to 
Fort Hayes. We always had an escort of 
soldiers, as there was constant danger of 
meeting an Indian war party. 

In August, 1867, we were sent to Fort 
Lyon, and on this trip we saw thousands of 
buffaloes. The breeding season was now ap- 
proaching its close, and at night and early 
morning could be heard the constant, low 
thunder of the bulls, their grunting rising into 
a roar that was one of the most striking of 



52 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

the natural phenomena of the Plains country. 
The calves, by this time, were alert, active 
little fellows, closely guarded by their moth- 
ers. Later in the season, all the bulls would 
segregate themselves from the cows, to range 
apart until the next breeding season. West 
of Fort Dodge we saw Indians in war paint, 
and expected to be attacked, but the rescals 
veered round us and went on their way. 

Fort Hayes was on a tributary of the 
Smoky Hill River; old Fort Zarah, on Wal- 
nut Creek; Fort Larned on Pawnee Fork, 
and Fort Harker on Big Creek. All these 
forts w^ere being remo^deled and improved. In 
this w^ay we put in all that summer, hauling 
supplies to one fort or the other, and when 
not engaged in this, we hauled rock for the 
foundations of the buildings. 

Along in October, 1867, while several Gov- 
ernment trains were at Fort Harker, waiting 
for orders, we were notified to make ready 
to accompany a party of peace commissioners 
that had been authorized to treat with sev- 
eral of the main plains tribes of Indians in 
the Southw^est, at Medicine Lodge, Kas. These 
negotiations were afterwards known as the 
Medicine Lodge Treaty. Like most other 
treaties with these tribes, it was soon broken. 

Several trains, with a part of ours, were 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 53 

to accompany this expedition. I was eager 
to go, but as no orders had been given to my 
outfit, I was fearful that I might be left be- 
hind. Here was the opportunity I had long 
looked for — to see a big gathering of Indians 
close at hand, without danger of getting 
scalped. I had almost given up in despair, 
when an orderly galloped up from head- 
quarters, saying that two more wagons must 
be sent forward at once. It was now 6 o'clock 
in the evening. Simpson, our wagon-master, 
approached me and said: 

"Billy, you and Frickie (Frickie drove the 
wagon next to mine) get ready at once and 
go into Fort Marker." 

As a rule, nothing ever greatly excited me 
in my frontier days, but I am bound to ad- 
init that I was now going round and round, 
so overjoyed was I at my good luck. My agi- 
tation came near causing me to be left behind. 

I ran as quickly as possible to where my 
mules were eating their grain, and without 
halting jerked the harness from the rack 
to throw it onto the lead mule. With both 
feet this mule kicked me squarely in the 
small of the back. I dropped as if I had 
been struck with an axe, and found myself 
partly paralyzed, and scarcely able to move. 
Recovering slightly, I regained my feet, but 



54 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

found that I could not straighten my body. 
I was game, however. Calling Frickie, I told 
him what had happened, and asked him to 
help me harness my mules, and not to say a 
word to anybody about my being hurt. Were 
it known that I had been kicked, I might be 
sent to the hospital. Frickie was a good fel- 
low, and I was soon on my way to the Fort. 
By next morning I was in fairly good shape. 

Night had come by the time we reached 
Fort Marker. We had to load and then drive 
about three miles to camp, on the Smoky Hill. 
The last two wagons were loaded with am- 
munition for a small Galling gun, not an 
undesirable equipment on Indian peace ex- 
peditions in those days. 

We pulled out bright and early next 
morning for Plum Creek, where there was a 
small road-ranch. Next day we reached Fort 
Zarah on Walnut Creek and on the third day 
we went on up the Arkansas and crossed it 
about seven miles below Fort Larned. We 
reached Medicine Lodge on the fourth day, 
where the treaty was to be held. 

All along the way on this trip we were 
traveling through countless numbers of buf- 
faloes. I remember seeing a wounded buffalo 
cow followed by six big lobo wolves. No 
hoofed animal could withstand these savage 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 55 

beasts — they were a terror to other wild life 
on the Plains. Wantonly, several buffaloes 
had been shot, and left lying to rot on the 
ground. An orderly came riding down the 
line with strict orders, that if another man 
in the outfit fired another shot at a buffalo 
he would be placed in irons. 

Between the Arkansas River and Medi- 
cine Lodge we were met by a number of 
noted Indian chiefs, mounted upon their fin- 
est horses and arrayed in their most splendid 
costumes. They carried themselves with dig- 
nity and in every feature was revealed their 
racial pride and their haughty contempt of 
the white man. Among them I recall Satanta, 
Kicking Bird, and Black Kettle.. 

Satanta, chief of the Kiowas, rode a big 
black horse, and presented a magnificent ap- 
pearance. It was because of his complaint 
that the order had been issued against the 
killing of buffaloes — a complaint that lay at 
the very heart of the grievances of the Indian 
against the white man in frontier days. He 
declared that the buffaloes were the property 
of himself and his people, and to destroy the 
buffalo meant the destruction of the Indian. 
Leading a nomadic life, which prevented his 
tilling the soil, even if he had wished to 
engage in agriculture, which he did not, the 



56 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

Indian saw that he would be deprived of his 
principal and most necessary food — buffalo 
meat — if the buffaloes were killed. 

At a later day General Phil. Sheridan, to 
subdue and conquer the Plains tribes for all 
time, urged and practiced the very thing that 
Satanta was fearful might happen. In the 
early 70's, the state legislatures of Kansas and 
Colorado, listening to the appeal of the Indians, 
through sympathetic white persons, enacted 
laws to stop the slaughtering of the buffaloes. 
General Sheridan at that time was in com- 
mand of the Military Department of the South- 
west, with headquarters at San Antonio. 
The Texas legislature, in session at Austin, 
was at the point of declaring against the 
merciless slaughter of buffales that was then 
under way in the Staked Plains and Pan- 
handle regions. General Sheridan is said to 
have told the legislators that the state should 
give to every buffalo-hunter a bronze medal, 
on one side of which should be a dead buf- 
falo, and on the other, a discouraged Indian, 
adding: 

"These men have done more in the last 
year to settle the vexed Indian question than 
the entire regular army has done in the last 
thirty years. They are destroying the In- 
dians' commissary; and it is a well-known 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 57 

fact that an army losing its base of supplies 
is placed at a great disadvantage. Send them 
powder and lead, if you will; but, for the 
sake of a lasting peace, let them kill, skin, 
and sell until the buffaloes are exterminated. 
Then you;r prairies can be covered with 
speckled cattle, and the festive cowboy, who 
follows the hunter as a second fore-runner of 
an advanced civilization." 

The Texas legislature accepted General 
Sheridan's advice. The Texans as a people 
were readily disposed to agree with that point 
of view, for in no State did the Plains Indians 
commit crimes more cruel and horrible than 
in Texas. 

On our way to Medicine Lodge our train 
of sixty wagons was strung out for a distance 
of about two miles, accompanied by a strong 
escort of soldiers. 

The members of this Indian Peace Com- 
mission were: N. G. Taylor, Commissioner 
of Indian Affairs; John B. Henderson, United 
States Senator; General William Tecumseh 
Sherman; General W. L. Harney; John B. 
Sanborn; General A. H. Terry; S. F. Tappan, 
and General C. C. Augur. 

Among the notable chiefs were: Satanta, 
Kicking Bird, Black Kettle, Medicine Arrow, 
and Lone Wolf. Black Kettle was then at 




Satanic, The Old Tiger of the Kiowas. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 59 

the height of his power, but soon to meet the 
death he had so often inflicted. He led the 
Cheyenne raid in the valley of the Solomon 
River in August, 1868, and had been in the 
Sand Creek fight in Colorado, November, 1864, 
where Colonel Chivington, commanding a reg- 
iment of Colorado troops massacred a lot of 
Cheyennes. I camped on that battleground 
in 1870 while hunting buffaloes. The spot 
was still strewn with bones of the dead, and 
the trees were yet scarred by the hail of bul- 
lets that had come from the guns of the sol- 
diers, who killed old and young, women and 
children, without mercy, and atrociously mut- 
ilated the bodies of the dead. In 1866, at Fort 
Marker, Black Kettle had made a speech of 
great eloquence, asking the Government not 
to permit the building of railroads through 
the Indian country, as it would drive away 
the buffaloes and leave the Indians to starve. 
This fear of the change that would follow 
the building of railroads across the Plains 
was night and day in the heart of the Indian. 
No chief made a speech in which he did not 
refer to it. In June, 1871, Little Raven, Pow- 
der face, and Bird Chief, Arapahoes; Little 
Robe and Stone Calf, Cheyennes, and Buffalo 
Good, Wichita, were taken to Washington 
and Boston, that they might be impressed with 



60 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

the white man's strength, and futility of the 
Indians further resistence to the demands of 
the Government. Stone Calf, in a speech at 
Tremont Temple, Boston, handled the railroad 
question in this manner. 

"They (the Government) said they w^ould 
teach our people to plant and raise corn, and 
to build our habitations from trees. But be- 
fore they ever ploughed or planted an acre 
of corn for us they commenced to build rail- 
roads through our country. What use have 
we for railroads in our country? What have 
we to transport from our nations? Nothing. 
We are living wild, really living on the 
prairies as we have in former times. 1 do 
not see that we have been benefitted in the 
least by all the treaties that we have made 
with the United States Government." 

We went into camp on Medicine Lodge 
Creek, to wait until the gathering Indians had 
come in. Near us was a small village of In- 
dians, to whom a runner came on the third 
day to notify them that some of their live- 
stock had been stolen by the Kaws, a neigh- 
boring tribe. We could see the wave of ex- 
citement run over the village, and the bucks 
running to and fro, getting ready for the pur- 
suit. The squaws were no less active. They 
helped saddle the ponies, etc., and jabbered 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 61 

and screamed to each other in a way that 
would have made it hard for the marauders 
had they been captives in the custody of the 
squaws. As each buck got ready, he rode 
away without waiting for his companions. 
They returned later in the day with their 
ponies, but had been unable to overtake the 
thieves. 

I shall never forget the morning of Oc- 
tober 28, 1867. At a distance of about two 
miles from our camp was the crest of a low 
swell in the Plains. The background was blue 
sky — a blue curtain that touched the brown 
Plains. For a moment I was dumbfounded 
at sight of what was rising over that crest 
and flowing with vivid commotion toward us. 
It was a glittering, fluttering, gaily colored 
mass of barbarism, the flower and perfection 
of the war strength of the Plains Indian tribes. 
The resplendent warriors, armed with all their 
equipment and adorned with all the regalia of 
battle, seemed to be rising out of the earth. 
Their number was estimated at 15,000, but I 
cannot vouch for its accuracy. 

As they came into plainer view, the In- 
dians spread their ranks wider and wider, 
to create as profound an impression as pos- 
sible, and inspire us deeply with their power. 
Now they could be heard chanting and sing- 



62 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

ing. Having arrived within a quarter of a 
mile of our camp, the Indians charged like 
a whirlwind, firing their guns and brandish- 
ing them above their heads. The charge was 
abruptly halted, and the Indians stood at rest, 
waiting for the negotiations to begin. The 
tribes represented were the Cheyenne, Arapa- 
hoe, Kiowa, Apache, and Comanche. 

While the Indians were advancing, and 
were about half a mile distant, orders were 
given in camp that every man should retire 
at once to his tent, and there hold himself in 
readiness to resist an attack, which might be 
made at any moment. My boyish curiosity 
got the better of me, and I was standing just 
outside the door of my tent, gazing with open 
mouth at the oncoming Indians. General 
Harney was walking up and down the line 
between the tents, encouraging the men, tell- 
ing them not to be afraid, as we had enough 
men to whip all the Indians in sight. He saw 
me as he was passing my tent. Tapping me 
on the shoulder with his riding whip, he said, 
"Get back into your tent, young man." I 
lost no time in obeying him. 

This fine old warrior made a lasting im- 
pression upon me, and I can see him now, as 
if it were only yesterday, passing back and 
forth in the camp street, with the fire of 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 63 

valor burning in his eyes. He felt the re- 
sponsibility of this critical moment, and knew 
that the slightest break on either side would 
precipitate war on the spot. He made an 
imposing appearance that memorable fall 
morning. He was gray-haired, straight, broad- 
shouldered, and towered to the commanding 
height of six feet and six inches. General 
Harney was an experienced Indian fighter, and 
exerted a powerful influence among the Plains 
tribes. They knew him and respected him, 
believing that he had always told them the 
truth. 

The Indians drew up their horses at a 
distance of about 200 yards. General Harney 
had motioned to them to stop, and for their 
principal chiefs to come into camp. The lat- 
ter were obedient to his request and after dis- 
mounting, sat down with the peace commis- 
sioners. At the end of about an hour's con- 
ference, the main body of Indians was per- 
mitted to enter camp. There were many In- 
dian boys not more than ten years old among 
the warriors, which probably was an artifice 
to create among us the belief that there were 
more fighting men than were actually in the 
ranks. 

Bringing up the rear were the squaws 



64 



Life of "Billy" Dixon 



and children and dogs. The squaws pitched 
their tepees on the creek in sight of our camp. 
The young bucks spurned all friendly 
overtures, refusing to shake hands, and con- 
ducting themselves in a sullen manner. After 
riding through our camp many times, evi- 




Indian Ration Issue at Fort Sill. 



dently to examine it carefully and gain an 
accurate knowledge of our strength, they 
withdrew and remained at a distance. Dur- 
ing this time the troops were intently watch- 
ing every movement of the Indians, suspect- 
ing treachery at every turn. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 65 

The commission and the chiefs finally 
agreed upon the terms of the treaty, the main 
point of which was that the Indians should 
keep south of the Arkansas River. I had rea- 
son to remember this particular provision in 
subsequent years, as did many another buffalo- 
hunter. To venture south of the Arkansas 
for buffalo was to risk falling into the very 
jaws of the lion, as the Indians fought jealous- 
ly for the preservation of the right which they 
declared had been given to them at Medicine 
Lodge. 

The making of treaties with the Plains 
tribes was followed by the breaking of these 
treaties whenever the Indians saw fit to do so. 
Conditions generally made it difficult for the 
Indians to do otherwise. They were beset on 
all sides by a frontier population that was as 
hostile to the Indians as the Indian was to 
the whites. Lack of permanency and con- 
tinuity in the arrangements made by the Fed- 
eral government were largely responsible for 
the unrest and frequent outbreaks. The situ- 
ation was clearly described by General W. B. 
Hazen in 1874, when most of the southwestern 
tribes had gone on the warpath. He said: 

"As one example of this very point, I will 
call attention to successive treaties made with 
the Kiowas, Satanta at the head, by five sep- 

5D 



66 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

arate and successive commissions, each ignor- 
ant of what the other had done, and believing 
that they alone were receiving the fresh faith 
of these people. Several solemn treaties were 
made, by which these people were to cease 
war, and especially raiding into Texas, prev- 
ious to the Medicine Lodge treaty of 1866, all 
to be broken within thirty days thereafter. 
Then comes that of Medicine Lodge, terms of 
which you know. Then one was made with 
General Sheridan and myself, at Fort Larned, 
in the autumn of 1868, to be quickly broken. 
Then, again, in 1869, with General Sheridan, 
to be broken not less than twenty times, un- 
til he was imprisoned in Texas. Then a new 
farce with the commissioners, by which he was 
released, and he is now leading the war par- 
ty of the tribe. This would have been im- 
possible had there not been men ignorant of 
the situation, at each successive occasion to 
deal with these people, nor could it have tak- 
en place had the Army, with its persistent 
organization, control of Indian affairs. Such 
is the case all through the administration of 
Indian matters. One civil administration, or 
one set of civil officers, in good faith under- 
takes an experimental policy, good enough of 
itself, but as soon as anything is done on the 
new plan, with all its invariable pledges, and 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 67 

its flattering promises are fully conceived and 
begun, a new administration begins, with 
equally good intent, an entirely new policy, 
unintentionally disregarding all the promises 
and efforts of its predecessors and their agents. 
The savage cannot comprehend this, and nat- 
urally calls it a lie, the white people a nation 
of liars, and as evidence relates a half dozen 
cases like that just described. I am giving no 
fictitious imaginings, but what I know. This 
thoroughly destroys any faith or interest that 
otherwise may be nourished in an Indian 
community; nor can this be changed only by 
giving them a consecutive policy, which is im- 
practical only through some branch of gov- 
ernment that is in itself perpetual." 

The "peace policy" of the Government 
actually encouraged a number of the more 
daring chiefs to become defiant in their deal- 
ings with Washington. When they saw that 
the Government did not strike back, or strike 
back quickly, they did not hesitate to go on 
raids and commit depredations. Shortly after 
Satanta and Big Tree, Kiowas, had been pa- 
roled by the Texas authorities, in 1873, the 
Commissioner of Indian Affairs, then at Fort 
Sill, demanded the surrender and arrest of 
certain Comanche warriors who had been raid- 
ing in Texas, saying that if this order should 



68 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

not be obeyed within ten days, it would be 
inforced by military power. A portion of the 
Comanche warriors immediately left for the 
Plains, and it being evident that an attempt 
to compel compliance by military force could 
only be successful after a long campaign, the 
order was suspended and no arrests were 
made. 

The effect of this wavering policy was bad. 
The same hostile warriors of the Comanches 
and Kiowas considering themselves victorious, 
became more and more open in their hostile 
demonstrations, and during the winter and 
spring frequent consultations were held by 
them, sometimes including the neighboring 
Gheyennes, looking to the maurading expedi- 
tions upon a larger scale than for the many 
years before. Some time in May, at the an- 
nual "Medicine" dance of the Comanches, near 
the mouth of the Sweetwater, one of their 
young men, making his first appearance as a 
"medicine" man or prophet, professed to have 
a revelation from the Great Spirit, to the 
effect that the Gaddoes, Wichitas, and other 
friendly Indians who were following in the 
way of the whites, would soon go out of ex- 
istence, and this would be the fate of the 
Comanches if they followed the same road; 
that the only way for them to become the 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 69 

great and powerful nation they once were, 
was to go to war and kill all the white people 
they could. The Indians said that he pre- 
dicted the great drouth that occurred that 
year; and that he told them that the bullets 
would drop harmlessly from the guns of the 
white men; that he appealed to them for the 
truth of his revelation by predicting that the 
comet, then attracting general attention, would 
disappear in five days, and made other de- 
monstrations which to them appeared miracu- 
lous and obtained for him entire credence for 
all his words. The hearts of all the young 
Comanche warriors were at once fired. An- 
other "medicine" dance was soon after ap- 
pointed, to which all Kiowas and Cheyennes 
were invited, when the Comanche "medicine" 
man again appeared, and at which plans were 
discussed and determined on for a campaign 
of murder and rapine. From this period 
murders and depredations became so frequent 
as to excite general alarm. 

War parties were soon ranging through 
what is now western Oklahoma, the Texas 
Panhandle, western Kansas, and eastern Col- 
orado. The war plans of the Kiowas, Com- 
anches and Cheyennes were consolidated by 
an exciting occurrence at Wichita Agency, 



70 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

August 22, 1874, which inflamed them to out- 
breaks on a larger scale. 

A number of Kiowas and the Noconee 
band of Comanches with their squaws and 
children went to the Agency and began raid- 
ing the fields and gardens of the friendly 
Wichitas. General J. W. Davidson, in com- 
mand at Fort Sill, was notified, and he sent 
Lieutenant Woodward with a detail of forty 
men of the Tenth Cavalry to disarm the hos- 
tiles and compel their return to Fort Sill. 
Big Red Food, the chief, turned over a few 
guns and pistols, but declared that he would 
not surrender his bows and arrows. In the 
latter he was supported by the terms of a 
recent agreement in which it was held that 
only guns should be classed as arms. With a 
whoop Big Red Food and his warriors dashed 
away. The soldiers fired a volley at the In- 
dians. The latter destroyed much property 
and committed several murders in the neigh- 
borhood of the Agency. The war party quick- 
ly grew in numbers, and prospect of peace in 
the Plains country was vanishing. 

Wagon loads of supplies and presents had 
be brought for the Indians, all of which were 
now distributed. The supplies were mostly 
blankets, clothing, hats, sugar, coffee and 
flour, which were issued to the head men, and 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 71 

these in turn made distribution among the 
families. The Indians now seemed in much 
better humor. 

The day was warm, though fall was at 
hand, and the heat brought much discomfort 
to some of the Indians — those, for instance, 
who put on every article of clothing that had 
been given to them. It was a comical sight 
to see some of the old bucks wearing two or 
three heavy coats and two high-crowned Army 
hats, one on top of the other. Others were 
attired in Army uniforms, but without trous- 
ers. The latter was a garment which no wild 
Indian could be induced to wear. 

In a short time there was much trading 
going on between the soldiers and the In- 
dians, but on the sly, as strict orders had 
been issued against it, especially the trading 
of any kind of fire-arms to the Indians. The 
temptation was too strong, however, and I 
traded my old cap-and-ball six-shooter to an 
old Indian for three buffalo robes and other 
trinkets. 

About 4 o'clock in the afternoon of the 
day the Indians came in we got orders to be 
ready to pull out in an hour. It was nearly 
sundow^n when we broke camp. We traveled 
until late that night to reach the Arkansas 



"72 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

River crossing, where we went over and made 
camp. 

We pulled into Fort Marker about No- 
vember 1, and drove on out to where the rest 
of the train was in camp. While unloading 
our wagons at the Post, a rumor spread that 
gave us some uneasiness — a rumor about what 
might happen to the fellows who traded fire- 
arms to the Indians at Medicine Lodge. The 
fine for a man who had sold a six-shooter 
would be fifty dollars, which was enough 
money to buy a whole lot of fun in those days. 

These arms were the property of the 
United States Government, and proof that a 
man had sold a gun meant serious trouble. 
An order came to the men to turn in all 
their arms. It looked as if I was in bad shape. 
In my predicament Frickie again came to my 
aid, and just in the nick of time, by offering 
to lend me his six-shooter — a six-shooter 
which he personally owned. I turned in 
Frickie's gun, and later received another, 
which I gave to him. 

We had grown rather tired of the job of 
telling the boys that had stayed behind all 
about the Medicine Lodge treaty by the time 
orders came for us to hitch up for a trip to 
Fort Leavenworth. At Fort Harker was a lot 
of artillery that had been assembled there in 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 73 

1866 by General Hancock for an Indian cam- 
paign. He found that dragging cannons here 
and there over the Plains in pursuit of hostile 
Indians was about as feasible as hitting a 
hummingbird with a brickbat. The Indians 
moved like the wind or like shadows, and 
were too wary to come within range of ar- 
tillery. So the cannons were parked at Fort 
Harker as useless. All of them were to be 
hauled back by wagon to Fort Leavenworth. 
Our trail led along the railway for miles, 
and it seemed ridiculous that the cannons 
should not be transported by train. The cost 
of shipment would have been excessive, how- 
ever, and inasmuch as the government owned 
the teams and wagons and was paying us by 
the month there was no good reason why we 
should not be hauling cannon to Fort Leaven- 
worth. 

We made our first camp near Salina, Kas., 
and narrowly escaped losing our wagons by 
fire. In the early morning, a spark blew 
from a camp-fire into the tall, dry grass. In- 
stantly, the fire began running with the speed 
of a race horse. All hands turned out to save 
tents, bedding, wagons, etc. By back-firing, 
and by beating out the flames near our tents, 
we were able to get the fire under con- 
trol. At best, however, we would have lost 



74 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

our wagons had it not been for our good luck 
in having the teams hitched before the fire 
broke out. This enabled us to shift the po- 
sition of the wagons as necessity required. 

The fires on the Plains in fall and winter, 
after frost had cured the grass, were often a 
magnificent spectacle, especially at night when 
their radiance reddened the sky for many 
miles. The sky would be luminous, even 
though the fire was too far beyond the horizon 
to be seen. Once under strong headway, with 
the fire spread over a wide area, it was dif- 
ficult to arrest its progress. To the experi- 
enced plainsman, equipped with a flint or 
matches, there was no imminent danger, as 
he knew how to set out protective fires, and 
thus insure his safety. 

These big fires were rather terrifying, 
nevertheless, especially to the "tenderfoot." 
Carried forward in the teeth of a high, boister- 
ous wind, the fire was appalling, and there 
was something sinister and somber in the 
low roar that sent terror to the heart of wild 
animals. Vast clouds of smoke were carried 
into the heavens, until the sun lost its radi- 
ance and hung red and dull, like a copper 
shield, in the opaque depths. The ashes of 
burned vegetation sifted down hour after 
hour, as if a volcano were throwing out fine 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 75 

lava dust. At night, when the wind was still, 
a fire on the Plains was a beautiful sight. In 
the far distance, the tongues of flame appeared 
so small that they looked like a red line of 
countless fingers, pointing with trembling mo- 
tion toward the sky. The danger of these 
fires to life in the Plains country has com- 
monly exaggerated. The grass that grew in 
the Plains did not have the height to pro- 
duce a sweeping, high-rolling fire, such as 
was often seen in the regions of the tall 
bluestem in eastern Kansas. 

Upon reaching Fort Leavenworth, the 
w^agons were unloaded, the outfits turned over 
to the Government, and the "shave-tail driv- 
ers" paid off. I had a comfortable stake for 
a young fellow, and spent the winter in 
Leavenworth and Kansas City, mingling with 
the hardy frontiersmen and listening delighted- 
ly to their incomparable tales of adventure. 
I went frequently to the home of my friends, 
the McCall's, where I always found a hospit- 
able welcome. Several times I went out from 
both Leavenworth and Kansas City with hunt- 
ing parties. In those days, railroad companies 
used to promote "personally conducted" hunt- 
ing parties to the buffalo range, hunters com- 
ing from such distances as Cincinnati, Chica- 
go, and St. Louis. 



CHAPTER IV. 

T N the spring of 1868 I obtained employment 
-*" with a man named Powell who owned a 
store at Baxter Springs, Kas. Powell owned 
a train of six wagons, all drawn by four- 
mule teams, which he kept on the road haul- 
ing lumber and supplies from Leavenworth to 
Baxter. Much has been written about Dodge 
City, Caldwell and Abilene as wild and woolly 
towns in frontier days. None of them was 
livelier than Baxter Springs, especially after 
the completion of the railroad to that point. 
Baxter was the northern terminus of a trail 
from Texas across Indian Territory, Indian 
Territory was infested by the most desperate 
class of men I ever saw, most of whom were 
citizens of that lawless country. Baxter 
Springs supplied in abundance all that the 
most dissipated character could wish for in 
the way of whisky, women, gambling and 
fighting. The story of the early days at Bax- 
ter would make a fascinating book. 

At Baxter I saw the battleground where 
Quantrell, the guerrilla, captured General 
Blunt's supply train in 1864. The capture was 
virtually a horrible massacre by this blood- 
thirsty "partisan ranger" and his men. I was 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 77 

told that Quantrell got General Blunt's uni- 
form, and afterwards wore it. I could still 
see the bullet marks on the trees where the 
fight took place. 

I remember with Powell most of that 
summer, hauling from Kansas City part of the 
time. I was still bent upon getting further 
west. I thirsted for adventure, but as yet 
had seen only the mere fringe of it. At the 
end of several months, I went to Leavenworth 
with a lot of freighters, and there met up 
with a man named Cox who was hiring men 
to go with a mule train to Fort Hays. I hired 
to Cox, as did Sam Harkness, a companion 
with whom I had worked all summer. To our 
great satisfaction, we found that the mules, 
which had been shipped from Missouri and 
Kentucky, were all broke, and by no means 
the desperate "shave-tails" that confronted me 
when I started from Leavenworth for the first 
time. 

These were exciting times. The very air 
buzzed with news of Indian depredations. 
The Government was rushing troops and sup- 
plies to the front, as if the world were com- 
ing to an end. The Indians had broke out 
again, and were leaving a trail of blood and 
ashes in the valley of the Solomon, where set- 
tlements were in abject terror, not knowing at 



78 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

what moment a swiftly moving war party 
might descend and murder the inhabitants, 
burn the buildings and drive off the livestock. 
Worst of all was the nature of the cruelties 
inflicted by the Indians upon all who fell into 
their clutches. The outrages upon women 
were too horrible to be described. The 
forays extended into the Saline valley. 

The Indians had kept the treaty that had 
been made at Medicine Lodge the previous 
year only until the moment the grass was 
green enough to feed their ponies and bring 
back the buffaloes. The Indian was able to 
live and flourish solely upon buffalo meat, 
and so long as he had buffalo meat he would 
eat no other, not even venison, antelope or 
wild turkey. 

Cox loaded- his six hundred mules and 
his drivers aboard train and we started over 
the Kansas Pacific for Fort Hays. This rail- 
road now extended as far west as Denver. We 
reached Fort Hays October 15, 1868. The fall 
was cold and disagreeable with lots of rain. 
To add to our discomfort, really our misery, 
we found that all the mules, big fellows from 
Missouri and Kentucky, were as wild as wolves, 
not one of them having been broke. Worst 
of all there was no time to break them. The 
Government wanted supplies rushed forward 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 79 

with all possible haste to what was known as 
Camp of Supply, afterwards Gamp Supply, a 
military garrison, at the junction of Beaver 
and Wolf Greek in what is now Woodward 
Gounty, Oklahoma. 

The "wild west" performances in recent 
years were tame affairs compared with the 
handling of those mules. It was with a feel- 
ing of desperation that each man crawled out 
of his warm bed in the half light of early 
morning, ate his breakfast and then went out 
into the raw, drizzly cold to harness his mules. 
Kicking, squealing and bucking, they wore 
out a man's patience, and he was tempted to 
use his six-shooter on the devilish animals. 
To get them harnessed and hitched and the 
wagons strung out was a Napoleonic job. 
Once on the road, however, there was little to 
do beyond holding the mules in line, as the 
wagons were too heavily loaded for the mules 
to run away. When everything was moving, 
there were one hundred wagons and six hun- 
dred mules going down the trail. Our dis- 
comfort was increased by the fact that much 
of the time the ground was covered with 
snow. Our supplies were to equip Guster's 
command that later was to fight the battle of 
the Washita and wipe out Black Kettle and 
his band, to be followed still later by Gen- 



80 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

eral Sheridan's going south and whipping the 
hostiles so badly that they never fully recov- 
ered their courage. The Indians were sub- 
dued mostly by the fact that the Government 
made a winter campaign, something that the 
Indians had never experienced. They were 
caught between the guns of the soldiers and 
the necessity of having food, shelter and 
w^armth for their families and feed for their 
ponies. Defeat was inevitable under such 
dire circumstances. 

The first day out we got to Smoky Hill 
River and camped for the night. We then 
pulled to Walnut Creek, and the third day 
brought us to Pawnee Fork. Between this 
place and w^hat is now the town of Buckner, 
Kas., w^e had a stampede that for real excite- 
ment beat anything I had ever seen. The 
mules ran in every possible direction, over- 
turning wagons, and outfit colliding with out- 
fit until it looked as if there would never be 
a pound of freight delivered at Supply. Many 
of the wagons were so badly demolished that 
they had to be abandoned and left behind. 
Their loads were piled on other wagons and 
carried forward. 

Our route carried us past Saw Log Creek, 
Fort Dodge — there was no Dodge City at that 
time — Mulberry Creek, and thence to Bluff 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 81 

Creek. Here we sighted buffalo, the first we 
had seen on the trip. As we advanced fur- 
ther from the border of civihzation buffalo 
grew more plentiful, so plentiful that between 
Bluff Creek and the Cimarron a big herd of 
stampeding buffaloes bore squarely down upon 
our train. Things looked squally, as there 
was danger, not only of being run over by 
the buffaloes but of our mules running away, 
a disaster that would have been costly. A 
troop of cavalry was deployed to drive back 
or turn the oncoming herd. Every man in the 
outfit got out his gun, and we were able to 
give the buffaloes a reception that brought 
many of them to the ground, saved the mule 
train, and filled our pots and skillets with fine 
meat. 

We reached Camp Supply at the end of 
a twelve days' journey. The supplies were 
unloaded on the ground and covered with 
tarpaulins. The site had been chosen by Gen- 
eral Sully, upon the recommendation of an 
old scout, "Uncle John" Smith, who had been 
on the frontier about thirty years, and is said 
to have been the first white man that ever 
visited the country bordering the two Cana- 
dians. We did not see a single Indian during 
the trip to Supply. 

Returning to Fort Hays, we made a sec- 

6D 



82 



Life of "Billy" Dixon 



end trip down without mishap. But trouble 
was in store for us on our way back. The 
unloaded wagons were comparatively light, 




Wood-Jumler Found Scalped Near Fort Dodge. 

and the mules could easily pull them. We 
were driving two wagons abreast. Nobody 
ever knew what scared one of the rear teams. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 83 

but it certatinly got scared, and that particu- 
lar outfit was soon going in the direction of 
Missouri and Kentucky at the rate of about 
thirty miles an hour. The rattling and bang- 
ing and jolting of the wagon, and the shout- 
ing and swearing of the driver caused a tu- 
mult that spread panic among other teams 
and the stampede quickly reached the lead 
teams. So here we went, in every possible 
direction. It was impossible to hold the mules. 
Wagons were overturned, broken and scattered 
over the prairie for miles, and some of the 
mules were so badly crippled that they had 
to be shot. Some tore themselves loose from 
their harness and ran so far away that they 
were never found. The spectacle of those 
six hundred mules running away with their 
one hundred wagons was the most remark- 
able I ever witnessed. 

One outfit, including both the wagon and 
the six mules, disappeared completely. I found 
them in 1871 when I was hunting buffaloes on 
that range. The wagon and the carcasses of 
the mules were in a draw or small canyon, 
about 12 miles from where the stampede be- 
gan. In their headlong course, the mules 
could not stop when they came to the brink 
of the draw, so in they went, with the wagon 
piling on top of them. They were still hitched 



84 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

to the wagon, but badly tangled in the har- 
ness. In the wagon was an Army needle-gun, 
which showed that I was the first person to 
reach the spot. 

After this experience, the mules were 
harder than ever to control, and would "run 
at the drop of the hat" or the flip of a prairie 
dog's tail. 

Fort Hays, at this time was the supply 
point for all the Government forts to the 
south, and remained as such until the Santa 
Fe railroad came through in the fall of 1872. 
I remained at Fort Hays until the fall of 1869, 
and this was my last work for the Govern- 
ment until 1874, when I was employed as a 
scout and guide under General Miles. During 
the five years I had been making my own way 
in the world, I had worked for the Govern- 
ment most of the time. 

I was now eighteen years old, in perfect 
health, strong and muscular, with keen eye- 
sight, a natural aptitude for outdoor life, an 
excellent shot, and had a burning desire to 
experience every phase of adventure to be 
found on the Plains. I had worked all the 
summer of 1869 with George Smith and Tom 
Campbell, and liked them so well that we 
had planned fitting up an outfit to hunt and 
trap that winter. So along in November the 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 85 

three of us bought a good team and wagon, 
traps and provisions, and guns and ammuni- 
tion and started north along the Saline River. 
Campbell was an old trapper and knew how 
to take beaver, which were fairly plentiful 
along the streams. 

My happiness now seemed complete, and 
I enjoyed to the fullest every moment of my 
life. Storm nor darkness nor hunger nor toil 
cooled my ardor in the slightest degree. We 
caught not only beaver, but several otter. 
Wolves abounded everywhere, and we trap- 
ped a large number. Their pelts were worth 
from $2.50 to $3 each. In this way we put 
in the winter, and made good money. We 
had a warm, comfortable dugout, with plenty 
of wood and water. I had no wish to return 
to a city. At intervals we would take a load 
of game to Hays City, where there was a ready 
market. Once we took in a load of elk, and 
got twenty dollars apiece for the carcasses. 
The hunting of buffaloes for their hides 
began in the spring of 1870. That was also 
the beginning of the destruction of the buf- 
falo. As I remember, the hunting was started 
by a firm of eastern hide-buyers whose agents 
came to Hays City and other towns near the 
buffalo range and offered prices, that made 
hide-hunting a profitable occupation. 



86 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

We were in the very heart of the best 
buffalo country between the Dominion of 
Canada and the Rio Grande, and quickly 
abandoned trapping for buffalo hunting. The 
first offers were $1 each for cowhides and $2 
each for bull hides, which enabled us to make 
money rapidly. As the slaughter increased, 
and the buffaloes grew scarcer prices were 
advanced, until $4 was being paid for bull 
hides by the fall of 1872. 

During the winter of 1870 we ranged all 
over western Kansas, but principally along 
the Republican River and its tributaries. Gen- 
erally, there were three or four men in an 
outfit, each having contributed his share for 
necessary expenses. They went where the 
range was best, and buffaloes most plentiful. 
A dugout was built and occupied as perma- 
nent headquarters camp, the hunters ranging 
for miles through the surrounding country. 
The only kind of dugout worth having was 
one with a big, open fire-place, near the edge 
of a stream of good water, with plenty of 
wood along its banks. We often occupied the 
same dugout for a month or more. Then, as 
the buffaloes grew less plentiful, we shifted 
our camp and built a new dugout, which was 
easily and quickly done. 

From where the buffaloes were killed in 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 87 

the range, we hauled the hides to camp, 
where we dried them and hauled them to 
market. Though I was not quite eighteen 
years of age, there were very few men who 
could excel me in marksmanship, which pos- 
sibly was a natural gift supplemented by 
more or less constant practice. 

I always did my own killing, and gener- 
ly had two experienced men to do the skin- 
ning. A capable man could skin fifty buffa- 
loes a day, and usually was paid $50 a month. 
I have paid as much as twenty-five cents a 
hide to a good skinner. We often killed the 
buffaloes the day before they were to be 
skinned. 

During the fall, Smith and Campbell grew 
tired of the business and wanted to quit. I 
bought the outfit, and straightway hired two 
men to work for me, and started out killing 
buffaloes more energetically than ever. One 
of my skinners was a Mexican and the other 
a man named Perkins. 

Up to this time I had hunted north of 
the Kansas Pacific railroad, and as far west 
as Fort Wallace. As the fall advanced, I be- 
gan ranging further south, as the buffaloes 
were becoming somewhat scarce. I was mov- 
ing toward a country of future trouble — 
trouble with Indians — and to a region where 



88 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

in time I should meet with more adventure 
than I had ever dreamed of. 

We moved south of Hays City about ten 
miles and came to a boiling spring that flowed 
from an opening in solid rock. Here we de- 
cided to make our permanent camp for the 
winter, so we built a picket house and a big 
dugout, expecting to dry a lot of buffalo meat 
for market, but finally abandoned this scheme. 
Our camp was on a main-traveled road lead- 
ing to Hays City. Freighters and hunters 
urged me to establish a road ranch or store, 
where such supplies as were used in that 
country could be purchased in reasonable 
quantities. Having some spare money, I 
stocked up with tobacco, whisky and a gen- 
eral line of groceries, and employed a man 
named Billy Reynolds to run the place for 
me, while I devoted my time to killing buffa- 
loes. Many a jolly company gathered at the 
road ranch at the boiling spring. The sale 
of whisky was a common practice in those 
days, as whisky was freely used by frontiers- 
men, and its sale was expected as a matter 
of course. Other conditions were too hard and 
too pressing for the question of the morals 
of the traffic to be raised as it was in 
later years, when the country became more 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 89 

thickly settled, and an entirely new order of 
things was established. 

I was well acquainted with Reynolds, and 
liked him, having formed his acquaintance on 
the Custer expedition to Camp Supply in 1868 
when he was a mule-driver. He was a friend- 
ly, whole-souled kind of fellow, and knew 
just how to treat men to get their trade. I 
made good money out of this venture until 
1871 when the income abruptly and perman- 
ently ceased — during my absence Reynolds 
sold the whole outfit and skipped the country, 
without even telling me good bye. I had 
been absent two weeks when I returned one 
day to find only the empty building. I never 
again heard of Rilly Reynolds. I doubt that 
his robbing me was ever to his final advant- 
age. Money obtained in that way never 
brought good luck, even in the Plains country, 
where men were judged by rougher standards 
than prevailed further east. 

I formed another partnership with a man 
named Finn, who was square and honest, and 
sold him an interest in the business. I had 
known him a number of years. He added an- 
other good team to the outfit. He had been 
a Government teamster and had served in the 
Civil War. He was a good story-teller, and 
when the day's work was done, and we were 



90 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

comfortably seated around the fire, nothing 
pleased me more than to get Finn started tell- 
ing stories. He was a native of Ireland, which 
gave a fine spice to his tales. 

Finn and I hunted together about a year. 
During this time I had for a skinner another 
Irishman, a man named Mike McCabe. Mike 
had red hair, and a fiery temper. But he was 
a fine fellow, and I thought a great deal of 
him. He w^as one of the best workers I ever 
saw. Mike would fight at the drop of the 
hat, and again w^ould sulk for weeks at a 
time over a fancied wrong. The men nick- 
named him "Cranky" or "Fighting" McCabe. 
When he was in good humor a livelier fellow 
could not be found, but the moment he got a 
grouch he clouded up like a Panhandle thun- 
derstorm. 

The only thing in the world McCabe was 
afraid of was an Indian, of which I shall 
write later. Though small in size, McCabe 
would fight a man twice his size, and always 
give a good account of himself. His consum- 
ing passion was gambling, and when he struck 
town he invariably lost everything he had 
at the card table. He worked for me, off and 
on, for three years, and was with me at the 
fight at Adobe Walls. 

During the time McCabe was with my out- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 91 

fit the two of us got along amicably, save 
when he would imagine that the world was 
against him, whereupon in a great huff he 
would quit, draw all his pay, and strike out 
for the nearest town — and its first gambling 
house within his reach. There he would re- 
main until his last dollar was gone. Some 
fine morning McCabe would show up with 
beaming face' and good-natured blarney, take 
his old job, and work even better than before. 

Once he had been sulking for almost a 
week and had not spoken to a man in camp. 
When we started hunting, we decided to pull 
out and leave him at the ranch alone, which 
we did. After making our kill of buffaloes, 
we started back. When we got in sight of 
the ranch we were astonished at seeing Mc- 
Cabe dancing on a dry buffalo robe stretched 
on the ground. He was giving all the fancy 
steps and dancing as if a full orchestra were 
playing. Upon seeing us, he stopped danc- 
ing, and seemed chagrined. He had been en- 
tertaining himself. His conduct was rather 
laughable. 

I rarely ever made a full settlement with 
McCabe. as he preferred to draw his pay in 
installments. I paid him fifty dollars a month. 
Sometimes he would have several hundred 
dollars ahead, and again he would be con- 



92 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

siderably overdrawn. Finally, he decided he 
would quit for good. Getting down to the 
job of a settlement, I carefully figured each 
item and found that just two dollars were due 
him, whereupon he said, with a twinkle in 
his eye, "It beats the devil that a man should 
work three long years and get just two dol- 
lars." He went away in good humor, and we 
were always warm friends. 

Finn and I were together until the next 
fall. He then took a notion to go back east 
and visit his folks, whom he had not seen 
since the Civil War. He was a frugal man, 
and did not smoke, chew tobacco nor drink 
whisky. His share of the year's work amounted 
to $5,000, which gave him a pretty good stake. 
He went to Rochester, New York, invested his 
money and was soon doing a profitable busi- 
ness. Several years afterwards he wrote to 
me saying that he longed to come back to the 
Plains country and its free life, but he never 
came. 

Before Finn went away we had taken 
into partnership a man named Jack Callahan, 
who had been a Government wagonmaster 
at Fort Hays. Jack never saw the dark side 
of things, and was a delightful companion. 
During the winter of 1871 Jack and I were 
hunting on the headwaters of Pawnee Fork, 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 93 

drifting back and forth from there to Smoky 
Hill and Walnut Creek and their tributaries. 
Our permanent camp was on Hackberry Creek, 
a branch of Pawnee Fork. Along in No- 
vember we had one of the worst blizzards I 
ever saw. It was this terrible storm that 
caught a wagon train loaded with cordwood 
for Hays City. This was Snuffer's bull train. 
All the cattle froze to death. The men were 
in a frightful condition when found. The 
outfit had been to Camp Supply with freight, 
and on the return trip had loaded up with 
cordwood on Walnut Creek. 

The storm struck them just as they went 
into camp for the night, after the stock had 
been turned loose to graze. When the storm 
broke, every man turned out to help hold 
the stock, and many of them were soon lost 
in the blinding swirl. One man, the cook, 
managed to find his way back to camp; he 
was found dead in his wagon, frozen stiff. 
Where he had tried to make a fire in the 
bottom of the wagon could be plainly seen. 
He had burned the endgate in his vain ef- 
forts. The wind blew with such terrific 
force that the fire was blown away in all di- 
rections. Though surrounded with enormous 
quantities of wood, all within easy reach, the 
poor fellow perished for want of fire. 



94 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

There was hardly a man in this ill-fated 
outfit who did not suffer the loss of a hand, 
a foot, or a limb. The men were camped in 
Five Mile Hollow^ five miles from Hays City, 
and when news of the affair reached town 
next day, all the citizens turned out to search 
for the missing men, gathering them up and 
taking them to the hospital at Hays City. 
Some of the bewildered men wandered to my 
road-ranch, where Billy Reynolds was in 
charge, and there found shelter and protec- 
tion from the storm. 

A few days after the storm had abated 
I decided to make a trip to Hays City, and 
bring back supplies for the outfit, so I hooked 
four mules to a wagon and hitched my sad- 
dle horse to the side. I rarely ever went out 
on the road without my saddle horse. The 
mules seemed to be more contented when 
accompanied by a horse, and in case of 
trouble I stood a better show of getting away 
on horseback. 

Our camp was on Hackberry, and I went 
prepared to stay all night with Reynolds at 
the road-ranch, the first night out. When I 
got there I found the place deserted. I could 
not imagine why Reynolds was not there and 
did not learn the reason until I reached Hays, 
driving there that night. I saw Snuffer's wag- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 95 

ons corralled at Five Mile Hollow when I 
passed that place, but heard nothing of what 
had happened until I got to Hays. Here I 
learned the no less surprising news that 
Reynolds had sold everything at the road- 
ranch and had skipped the country. 

The day after I reached town the ex- 
press agent came into the hotel office where 
I was stopping and asked if a man could be 
found who would take a load of express to 
Fort Dodge or Gamp Supply, saying that there 
was a lot of express for both places. As I had 
a good team, and there was no great need 
of my hurrying back to headquarters, I told 
him I would go. I also wanted to look that 
country over for buffaloes. 

I loaded and started for Fort Dodge with 
fifteen hundred pounds of express, making 
Walnut Greek the first night and staying at a 
road-ranch run by Johnny Quinn, afterwards 
killed at that place. The weather was bitter 
cold when I started next morning, and by 
10 o'clock it was spitting snow and getting 
colder every minute. I walked part of the 
time to keep warm. My load was bulky 
rather than heavy. I felt the cold driving 
into my very bones, and realized my danger. 
I was determined that I would not permit my- 
self to sink into drowsiness, as this meant 



96 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

death. Reaching a long divide, I dropped 
down the slope with my mules in a gallop, 
and luckily was soon in sight of a road-ranch 
kept by John O'Laughlin. I was scarcely 
able to speak when I drove up and found 
half a dozen men coming to meet me, all 
eager to hear the news from town, whatever 
it might be. In answer to their questions I 
merely shook my head. My jaws were set 
like a vice. I could not speak a word. They 
saw instantly my condition. Running into the 
dugout they began piling wood into the fire- 
place, and the room was soon as hot as an 
oven. I thawed gradually, burning like h live 
coal one moment and shivering the next as 
if I had a fit of ague. This was my first ex- 
perience with killing cold. In later days, af- 
ter I became a Government scout, I had many 
similar experiences. I once made a ride with 
dispatches, and became so stiff with cold by 
the time I had reached the end of my journey 
that I could not dismount from my horse — I 
simply let go and fell off. 

In the Pawnee Fork and Saw Log country 
I had seen lots of buffaloes, a sight which al- 
ways held me with endless fascination. When 
I got to Fort Dodge the third night out I 
heard that the buffaloes had drifted in by 
thousands during the blizzard, and that the 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 97 

garrisons had to fire a piece of artillery to 
keep them from breaking down the buildings 
and corrals. 

Next day I mounted my horse and struck 
off up the Arkansas to look over the country, 
traveling up the valley for about thirty-five 
miles. There had certainly been an enor- 
mous number of buffaloes in the country. I 
could see where the grass had been flattened 
and the willow thickets cropped close by the 
tired and hungry animals. In every direction 
could be seen the spots where the buffaloes 
had bedded down for the night. But now there 
was not a buffalo in sight. 

Lured on by the hope of catching sight 
of the vast multitude that had passed that 
way, I kept on up the valley, but without 
success. Then I determined to proceed to 
the Plains, which I did. Riding to a high 
point I turned my eyes across the plains. I 
held my breath in my astonishment at the 
wonderful sight. As far as I could see there 
was a solid mass of buffalo, quietly grazing 
on the curly mesquite, now brown with win- 
ter. At no other time in my life did I ever 
see such a vast number of buffaloes. For 
miles in every direction the country was 
alive with them. 

At this point I want to say that in all my 

7D 



98 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

experience in the buffalo country I never saw 
one die of old age and exhaustion, and can 
remember seeing only one "on the lift" — that 
is, in a situation where he could go no fur- 
ther. This one, an old bull, had got fast in 
a bog on the Canadian, and was unable to 
get out. Riding up to him, I threw my lariat 
over his head, after I had given my lariat a 
hitch over the horn of my saddle, and pulled 
the old fellow to firm ground. I left him 
grazing contentedly on the bank. The buf- 
falo was a hardy animal, and though they 
often got very thin during a hard winter, yet 
they never became so thin and starved as to 
go off their feet like cattle. 

I returned to Fort Dodge fully satisfied 
with my day's ride, and next day started on 
my return trip to Fort Hays. By the time I 
reached Fort Hays, a considerable number of 
hunters had been driven in by the storm. I 
told them of the black ocean of buffaloes I 
had seen northwest of Fort Dodge, which was 
good news to them, and set every man to 
overhauling his outfit. 

I was impatient to reach my camp, so I 
loaded up with supplies and pulled out. I 
found the boys in good shape and glad to 
see me. Next day we made a scout out west 
of Hackberry, and found thousands of buffa- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 99 

loes. It was plain that the big herd had 
drifted a long way during the blizzard, and 
had been as far south as the Arkansas. When 
the weather moderated they worked back to 
their old range. 

Along in May, 1872, we moved our camp 
from Hackberry to a point north of the Kan- 
sas Pacific railroad. 

While in camp on Hackberry I met with 
an experience which rarely ever happened to 
me— I got completely lost, so badly that I had 
no idea of direction. Perkins and I had been 
out all day killing and skinning buffaloes. 
We had worked late, and it had grown cloudy 
and dark when we started for camp. Both 
were afoot. In moving from each fallen 
buffalo to another we had wandered furth- 
er than we suspected. Each thought camp 
was in a different direction. So positive 
was Perkins that he was right that I fol- 
lowed him for a time. 

I was relying mostly upon the direction of 
the buffalo trails and when I found that we 
were crossing them instead of following them, 
I was convinced that we had lost our bearings. 
I called Perkin's attention to the trails. He in- 
sisted that he was going in the right direction. 
Perkins was a windy story-teller, and was re- 
lating a war tale. I disliked to interrupt him. 



100 Life of "Billy" D 



IXON 



Finally, however, I said that unless the wind 
had changed we were certainly going in the 
wrong direction. 

"Oh, the wind has changed," he replied: 
"I knew it would this morning." 

About this time we reached the head of a 
draw, on which we thought our camp was sit- 
uated. At that moment the clouds drifted 
from the face of the moon, and we saw a 
bunch of buffaloes that had bedded down for 
the night. This convinced me that Perkins 
was "going it wild," as I was sure that butfalo 
would not stay that close to our camp. 

Rovers that we were, with sails turned 
for every wind, we decided to kill some of 
the buffaloes, as they would be conveniently 
at hand, for skinning next morning, and we 
shot five or six. 

Pursuing our way down the draw, I was 
soon positive that we were lost. Perkins put 
up a lively argument to prove that he was 
not mistaken. When we reached another 
bunch of buffaloes that had bedded, Perkins 
threw up the sponge. Four bulls were lying 
together. We blazed into them, made a warm 
bed of two hides, with the hair turned in= 
side, and made a dry camp for the night. We 
slept as warm as if we were in a feather bed, 
though the night was cold. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 101 

In after years I thought many times of 
that night on the Plains. Of how tired we 
were, of how the wind whistled past us, of 
how the cold seemed to come down out of 
the sky, heavy and chill, and of how icily the 
moon shone as she sailed westward. Save 
for the occasional howling of wolves and 
coyotes, the night was supernaturally silent. 
It was the stillness of the primeval solitude. 
It was the stuff that makes a man in a warm 
bed under a roof feel like getting up to sad- 
dle his horse and ride away to this Land 
of Nowhere. Once in the blood, it can never 
be lost. Home-sickness for the Plains and 
their free, open life stings like a hornet. 

Perkins and I slept late next morning. 
The sun was shining in my face when I heard 
something scratching and clawing on the hide 
with which we were covered. There were lots 
of skunks in the country, and lately several 
men had been bitten by them. I thought of 
skunks, of which I stool in dread, as I would 
have preferred being bitten by a rattlesnake. 

Bracing myself, I kicked the hide with all 
my might, to throw it as far as possible from 
both of us. Instead of a skunk, I was as- 
tonished to see a big eagle that had been 
trying to get his breakfast by picking the 
meat off the fresh hide. That eagle was so 



102 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

badly scared that I am sure he must have 
had an attack of heart failure. He flopped 
around before he could get up enough steam 
to take wing, and even then he hovered in the 
air as if uncertain which way to fly. I could 
have killed him with the butt of my gun. 
I had no wish to do this, however, and watched 
him recover his wits and soar away. 

I do not believe that I exaggerate when 
I say that Perkins jumped Ave feet into the 
air when I kicked oiT the buifalo hide. He 
told me that he was sure Indians had nailed 
us, and that his scalp-lock twitched all day. 

Coming out of the draw where we had 
made our bed, we ascended a high point and 
scanned the surrounding country, hoping to 
locate our camp. Nothing looked familiar to 
us. We struck out in the direction we thought 
camp ought to be. We walked until nearly 
night before we got back to camp. 

By noon I was growing ravenously hun- 
gry. I suggested to Perkins that we kill a 
buffalo and broil some of the meat. We shot 
a 2-year-old heifer, and soon had a hump 
steak sizzling on the fire. No meal ever 
gave me greater satisfaction, though we had 
no salt or bread. 

We were fagged and footsore when we 
reached camp. James Donnelly, the man we 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 103 

had left in camp, had given us up as dead, 
confident that we had been killed by Indians. 
He had packed the outfit, harnessed the mules 
and was just at the point of pulling out for 
Hays City when we hailed him. We would 
have been left in bad shape had he gone. 
During the morning a band of twelve or fif- 
teen Indians had passed in sight of camp, 
and as we had been missing two days and 
one night, Donnelly naturally concluded that 
the Indians had killed us. After he saw the 
Indians he made up his mind that the best 
thing for him to do was to leave as quickly 
as possible for the Fort. 

During the summer of 1872 we hunted 
along the Saline and Solomon, frequently en- 
countering small bands of Indians. Generally, 
they were going north or south, and though 
they were supposed to be friendly, we watched 
them closely. Occasionally, we heard of a 
hunter being killed, but this did not bother 
us, so long as we were not molested. Some- 
times, Indians came into our camp. They 
were always hungry. We always fed them. 
They love sugar and coffee, and for either 
were willing to trade anything they had. The 
Kiowas were especially fond of sugar. The 
liking for sweet things was not peculiar to 
the white man. 



CHAPTER V. 

WE started south to the Arkansas River 
in the fall of 1872, and when we got to 
where Dodge City now stands, we found the 
first buildings under construction. None of 
us dreamed of the reputation that was to 
come to that town through its gun men. There 
were only a few houses at Dodge. I remem- 
ber that the Cox house, the first hotel, was 
open. Deciding to "put on airs," we went to 
the hotel for dinner. Our bill of fare was 
pork and beans, black coffee, bread and pep- 
per sauce, especially pepper sauce, for which 
we paid seventy-five cents. We could have 
beat it, hands down, in our own camp. I 
can recall the names of a number of the 
first business establishments : 

Wright & Company ("Rob" Wright), gen- 
eral supply store. 

Zimmerman's hardware, gun and am- 
munition store. 

McCart & Fringer, drug store. Fringer 
afterwards was judge of Ford county court. 

Kelly & Reaty, saloon. Kelly was a jolly, 
good-natured man, and was always popular. 
He was always called "Dog" Kelly. 

Murray & Waters, saloon. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 105 

Beeson & Harris, saloon. 

Hoover's saloon. 

The buildings were mostly box affairs, 
and built in the quickest possible way. But a 
palace does not make happiness, and I am 
sure that in the rough, frontier towns of those 
days there was lots of contentment and good 
cheer in the rudest shacks. The wind and 
the snow came in at the cracks in winter, 
and in summer the rain beat through and the 
red dust swirled along the floor, but we paid 
little attention to such things. Our skin was 
tough and we had many things to occupy our 
lime. We were constantly in the open air, 
which hardened us until we suffered scarcely 
any annoyance from wind or weather, such 
as would have been looked upon as hardships 
not to be endured, by men living cooped up in 
cities, where there is rarely a chance to fill 
one's lungs with fresh air, and where heaviest 
clothing cannot compensate for lack of physi- 
cal exercise. It is possible by exposure for 
men to toughen their skin and their bodies, 
just as they can toughen their hands. The 
Indian is a good example of this fact. 

At this time Dodge City was the terminus 
of the Santa Fe railroad. The railroad com- 
pany was still grading, and had moved as 
far west as the State line, at Granada, Kas., 




'Billy'' Dixon^ in His Prime as a Scout and Plainsmcm. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 107 

where building stopped for about a year. 
Dodge City sprang up like a mushroom. Build- 
ings went up day and night, and in a month's 
time the first dozen houses had been increased 
to a small town. 

Like moths drawn by the flame of a 
lamp, a picturesque lot of men gathered at 
Dodge. Practically all of them were looking 
for adventure and excitement, rather than for 
opportunities to become preachers, lawyers or 
merchants. They came from the border towns 
that dotted like beads that western fringe of 
civilization. Dodge City belonged mostly to 
the under-world in those days, and its ways 
were the ways of men and women who stayed 
up all night and slept all day. Buffalo-hunt- 
ers, railroad graders, gamblers, dance hall 
actors and dancers and that nondescript class 
that lived without doing any kind of work 
predominated. But there were good men and 
women in Dodge, and as in most genuine 
American communities, they finally won out, 
despite its revelries and dissipations. The 
professional gun man that gave Dodge most 
of its reputation, especially in eastern States, 
did not ply his business as a business until 
later years. 

Money was plentiful in those days. Any- 
body could get money, and there was no 



108 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

excuse for being "broke." Business thrived, 
and some of the stores could supply a man 
with practically anything he needed. The men 
of Dodge City spent their money as quickly as 
they made it, so lots of money was constantly in 
circulation. Whisky-drinking was a pastime 
or diversion in which few men did not in- 
dulge. It was true, however, that some of 
Dodge City's most famous characters never 
drank a drop of intoxicating liquors. They 
did not dare do it. They belonged to the 
class known as "killers." To get drunk or to 
drink enough whisky to make the nerves un- 
steady meant death for such men, as the 
enemy was always lying in wait for them. 

I cannot boast of having been an alto- 
gether perfect man in my conduct in those 
wild, free days, but there was two popular 
forms of amusement in which I did not in- 
dulge — dancing and gambling. I never bet a 
nickel on cards nor gambled in any form in 
my life though I saw all these things going on 
every night when I was in a border town, 
especially at Dodge. Why I did not, rather 
than the mere fact that I did not dance or 
gamble, always seemed to me to be of most 
interest. My only answer would be that this 
sort of thing did not appeal to me, and this 



Adobe Walljs, Texas Panhandle 109 

was sufficient beyond any moral reason for 
my conduct. 

As a class, the early population of Dodge 
was free-hearted and would divide the last 
dollar with a friend or a stranger in dis- 
tress. The people stood by each other in all 
emergencies. Nobody thought of locking his 
door at night. 

When the Santa Fe's construction was 
stopped at Granada, hundreds of men were 
thrown out of employment, and found it nec- 
essary to make some kind of shift for work, 
or leave the country. Right here is where the 
rapid extermination of the buffalo began. All 
of these men who could rustle a team and a 
wagon and get hold of an outfit went out on 
the Plains to kill buffalo. During the fall and 
winter of 1872 and 1873 there were more hunt- 
ers in the country than ever before or after- 
wards. This was the beginning of the high 
tide of buffalo-hunting, and buffalo fell by 
thousands. More were killed that season than 
in all subsequent seasons combined. I feel 
safe in saying that 75,000 buffaloes were 
killed within 60 or 75 tniles of Dodge City dur- 
ing that time. The noise of the guns of the 
hunters could be heard on all sides, rumbling 
and booming hour after hour, as if a heavy 
battle were being fought. There was a line 



110 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

of camps all the way from Dodge City to 
Granada. 

During all this time, and since 1871 Jack 
Callahan and I had worked together. Perkins 
and Donnelly were still with us. "Cranky" 
McCabe, his good humor having revived, came 
back to work for me. A single night at the 
card table in Dodge City generally wound up 
McCabe's ball of yarn, and at once he was 
ready to return to the buffalo range and 
without complaint. Apparently, there was 
something he had to get out of his system, and 
after he had been purged he was ready to 
resume his old ways. There was not a lazy 
bone in his body, and I never had a better 
hand. I was very much attached to Jack Cal- 
lahan. He was always in good humor, which 
is a fine quality for a man to have in a hunt- 
ing camp. A bad temper can spoil the pleas- 
ure of an entire camp. Some mornings we 
would sleep late. When the sun got in his 
eyes, Jack would jump up, exclaiming "By 
George, this will never do! It will never buy 
my girl a dress nor pay for the one she has." 

After we had been at Dodge City a few 
days, taking in the sights, we grew tired of 
loafing, and decided to strike out and go to 
new hunting grounds. So we went up the 
Arkansas River, along the north side, to what 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 111 

was known as Nine Mile Ridge, where we 
crossed to the south side of the river. 

The increasing numbers and destructive- 
ness of the bufl'alo-hunters had been making 
the Plains Indians more and more hostile. 
The danger to hunters was increasing dav by 
day. All that region south of the Arkansas 
was forbidden ground, the Indians insisting 
that the white men should obey the termsi of 
the Medicine Lodge treaty. If the killing of 
the buffaloes should continue unabated, the 
Indians would soon be facing starvation; at 
least, their old freedom would be at an end, 
as they could no longer roam the country at 
will, confident of finding meat in abundance 
wherever they might go. 

The Arkansas was called the "dead line," 
south of which no hunter should go. The 
river was patrolled at intervals by Govern- 
ment troops, as a feeble indication that the 
Medicine Lodge treaty had not been forgotten, 
but their vigilance was so lax that there was 
no difficulty in crossing back and forth with- 
out detection. The danger of attack by In- 
dians was a far more potent obstacle to the 
buffalo-hunter, but as buffaloes grew fewer 
in number and the price of hides advanced, 
even this did not deter hardy hunters from 
undertaking forays into the forbidden coun- 



112 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

try. The troops were supposed to prevent the 
passing of the Indians to the north side of the 
river. This was another scheme that failed to 
work. 

We gazed longingly across the sandy 
wastes that marked the course of the Ar- 
kansas. The oftener we looked the more 
eager we became to tempt fate. Even the sky 
looked more inviting in that direction, and 
often after a flurry of cold weather the wind 
from the south was mild, balmy and inviting. 
As a matter of fact, the possible danger of 
encountering hostile Indians added spice to 
the temptation. 

So we crossed over. Finding a pleasant 
stretch of bottom land, where the grass grew 
tall and thick, we cut and stacked a lot of 
prairie hay for our teams and saddle horses. 
The grass waved above our horses' backs as 
we rode along. Later, we found Indians too 
numerous in this vicinity for us to devote 
much time to hunting and we abandoned 
this camp. 

Before we made the change, however, Cal- 
lahan and I, both well mounted, and followed 
by one man in a light wagon, started south- 
ward on a scouting trip, intending to be gone 
several days. We wanted to feel out the 
country and locate the buffalo herds. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 113 

When we reached Crooked Greek; we ran 
smack into a bunch of Indians, and had a 
skirmish with them. The Indians could not 
speak English. This did not prevent our un- 
derstanding them. Their old chief motioned 
to us to go northward. That was a long time 
ago, yet I remember clearly the appearance 
of this old warrior. Noticeably, fastened un- 
der the skin of his left cheek he wore a long, 
brilliant feather. All the warriors were paint- 
ed red and yellow. We believed, however, 
that we were able to take care of ourselves, 
and continued on our way. Further down the 
creek, we struck another band of hostiles. 
This was rather too much of the same thing, 
and we decided that if we valued our scalps 
we had better pull out. 

We turned round and headed for camp, 
missing it about three miles in the darkness, 
and going into camp for the night in the 
enemy's country. Next morning we got back 
in safety, and called all hands round to dis- 
cuss the situation. Plainly, to stay south of 
the Arkansas meant putting in more time 
lighting Indians than in hunting buffaloes. 

But buffaloes had begun coming in by 
thousands, so we agreed to remain two or 
three days and make as big a kill as possible. 
Hunting was good, and a week had slipped 

8D 



114 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

by. The hides were green, which forced us 
to linger until they were dry. Not only were 
hides more easily handled when dry, but they 
made lighter loads. 

About the ninth day, we found ourselves 
running short of meat. A bunch of buffaloes 
were grazing about two miles distant. Mount- 
ing my horse, I told the boys that I would ride 
out and kill two good ones for meat. I was 
so well acquainted with the ways of buffa- 
loes that I could judge quickly by their ac- 
tions whether they would run or stand when 
approached. I saw that these were getting 
ready to run. 

This fact was a plausible hint that In- 
dians were moving through the country. My 
own experience and the testimony of other 
hunters convinced me that nothing causes 
greater alarm among buffaloes than the scent 
or odor of Indians, a peculiarity easily dis- 
tinguished by a white man's nostrils. When 
Indian hunting parties went on the buffalo 
grounds to get their winter's supply of meat, 
the herds were soon in great commotion, 
making it difficult for the white hunter to do 
his killing at a "stand." Strange as it may 
seem, if there were no Indians moving among 
the buffaloes, the latter would pay scarcely 
any attention to white hunters, even though 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 115 

the big buffalo guns were booming from sun- 
rise to sunset. 

Upon nearing the buffaloes as closely as 
I thought expedient, I dismounted and began 
crawling. Picking out a young bull, I turned 
loose with my big "50" gun. The herd stam- 
peded at the first crack, and raised such a 
dust that I could distinguish nothing. I fired 
as rapidly as 1 could pull the trigger at the 
indistinguishable mass, and was lucky enough 
to bring down six or seven before the herd 
was out of range. 

This fusilade from my gun set things 
moving in camp, where the boys jumped to 
the conclusion that I had been attacked by 
Indians. To add to the excitement a herd of 
about fifty antelopes appeared on a hill per- 
haps half a mile from camp. The swiftly run- 
ning animals would traverse a wide circle and 
dash again to the top of the hill, where they 
would stand rigidly attentive gazing in my 
direction. The excited imagination of the boys 
in camp soon transformed these harmless crea- 
tures into mounted Indians. They had not the 
slightest doubt of my having been killed and 
scalped, my body left weltering in its own 
blood, and speared and arrowed until it re- 
sembled a sieve. 

When I rode into camp a few minutes 



116 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

later, I found everything ready for flight and 
battle. All the fighting guns were convenient- 
ly at hand, and all the camp equipment was 
loaded on the wagon. The boys were just at 
the point of pulling out, but had lingered a 
moment to debate whether they should try 
to recover my dead body or whoop her up 
for Dodge City. 

Jack Callahan was declaring that it would 
be wrong to go away without being sure that 
I was dead. While this discussion was under 
way each man was as busy as a coon in a hen 
roost. McCabe had been set at work priming 
a lot of shells, which were already loaded. 
In his excitement he held the primers in his 
left hand, asking all the while, "Where in 
thunder are those primers? I can't find a 
single one, yet I saw a lot of them only a 
moment ago. Unless we get these shells 
primed, w^e'll be in bad shape!" 

McCabe w^as so nervous that the primers 
rattled in his shaking hand, without his see- 
ing them. McCabe lived in mortal terror of 
Indians, though as brave as a lion under 
all other emergencies,' a peculiarity I have 
seen in other men on the Plains. The scent 
or odor of the Indian affected some men as 
it did certain animals other than the buffalo. 
All kinds of game seemed to know when an 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 117 

Indian was around. A horse could be safely 
depended upon to give warning of the near 
approach of an Indian. I have had my horse 
run to and fro on his picket rope, manifesting 
the greatest alarm, apparently without cause, 
as I could see nothing. I never failed, how- 
ever, to find later that an Indian had been 
close by. 

The boys gazed at me in utmost astonish- 
ment as I rode into camp, safe and sound. 
They could not believe that I had really re- 
turned, and began asking me a thousand ques- 
tions. We laughed over what had hap- 
pened, each teasing the other about having 
been "scared out of a year's growth." All 
save McCabe took the joking in good nature. 
When the boys began poking fun at him 
about losing the primers, McCabe slashed on 
his war paint, and squared off to fight. He 
shouted that he would fight with bare fists, 
with a butcher knife or with a gun whoever 
repeated the story. He would have done as 
he threatened, but all of us liked him and 
only laughed at him the more. 

We loaded up with hides next day and 
pulled out for Dodge City, where we were 
lucky enough to strike a good market. We 
had to make three trips to get all the hides, 
for which we received from $2.50 to $4 a piece 



118 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

the highest price we ever received. The full 
amount was $1,975, but the buyer wrote us a 
check for the even sum of $2,000, a little mat- 
ter like $25 being of no moment in those days 
at Dodge City. 

The weather was now growing much 
colder, warning us that we should prepare for 
snow, sleet and howling blizzards. Each 
man bought himself a supply of warm winter 
clothing, and with lots of supplies and am- 
munition, we again went in search of the 
shaggy buffalo. We went up the Arkansas 
as far west as the next railroad station, where 
we hunted a few days, finding buffaloes so 
scarce that we moved over on the head of 
South Pawnee. 

I had been over this country the previous 
v.unter, and knew where there was a splendid 
spring of water, which I discovered in an 
unusual manner. On a hot, sultry August 
day I had left my horse down in the valley, 
and wandered off on foot after a bunch of 
buffaloes, going much further than I suspected 
at the time. Growing very thirsty, I began 
casting about for signs of water. Crossing the 
head of a small "draw," I saw a patch of 
green about a quarter of a mile distant. I 
hastened toward the spot, and there, to my 
astonishment, found a spring of clear, sweet 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 119 

water that boiled from a crevice in the rock. 
In after years I thought many times of the 
delightful sensation of lying beside that spring 
and drinking until I could drink no more. 
While resting, I carved in full my name, 
"William Dixon," in the soft sandstone rock 
at the head of the spring. Many years later, 
when I was living at Plemons, the county seat 
of Hutcheson county, Texas, I met a land 
agent who told me that he had seen my 
name on a rock at the head of a spring in 
western Kansas. He had no idea that he was 
talking to the man who carved the name. 
This man said that the country was thickly 
settled by prosperous farmers, which seemed 
incredible when I recalled the days when its 
principal inhabitants were buffaloes, mus- 
tangs, Indians and buffalo hunters. 

We shifted camp as soon as the buffaloes 
began thinning in numbers. Reaching North 
Pawnee, we went up as far as Walnut Creek, 
changing our camp as the buffaloes shifted, 
and finally going back south to Silver Lake, 
ten miles north of the Arkansas River. This 
lake was out on the open Plains. 

Here we were struck by another blizzard. 
There were two outfits camped at Silver Lake. 
The "norther" struck us with terrific fury, 
and caught us short of fuel, other than buf- 



120 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

falo "chips." I wish here to say something in 
honor of the buffalo chip. In later years, as 
the fortunes of the settlers in western Kan- 
sas improved and their social aspirations grew 
stronger, there were those who looked askance 
upon the humble buffalo chip, though they 
had seen the time when they were devoutly 
grateful for the genial warmth that spread 
from its glowing fire. It was the friend and 
benefactor of countless hunters and settlers in 
hours of need and extremity. The buffalo 
chip was simply the dry dung of the buffalo, 
purely vegetable, and made an excellent fire, 
over which coffee could be boiled and meat 
fried to a turn. When dry the buffalo chip 
caught the flame easily, and soon burned to 
a dull red. Many a dark night have I looked 
with gladness at the distant buffalo chip fire, 
knowing that around it I would find hospit- 
able companions and lots of warmth. 

There was a big scramble to make snug 
when the norther hit us. As soon as it broke, 
we tied buffalo hides to the wagons to form 
a shelter for our horses, but the wind was 
so strong that it tore down the hides and 
carried them rattling and bounding across the 
Plains. Worst of all, the gale blew all the 
lire out of our camp stoves. We were forced 
to go to bed to keep from freezing to death. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 121 

and we remained wrapped in our blankets 
under our buffalo robes until next day. 

1 am sure that in these later years we do 
not have the sudden blizzards, such as swept 
howling from the north in those early days, 
which is fortunate, as they would cause un- 
told suft'ering to people and livestock. 

The weather had moderated by next day, 
and we went in search of our stock, which we 
found at John O'Loughlin's road-ranch, twelve 
miles south of Silver Lake. As there was 
snow on the ground and it was difficult to 
find fuel, even buffalo chips, we decided to 
stay at O'Loughlin's place until the weather 
settled. Other hunters were in the same 
plight as ourselves, and they too came drifting 
in to O'Loughlin's. We were a jolly crowd. 
What sport we had, telling stories of our 
hunts, drinking whisky, playing cards and 
shooting at targets. I was especially fond of 
the latter. 

In such a gathering there were always 
mischievous fellows forever scheming to play 
jokes and pranks upon their companions. 
While at O'Loughlin's a sham duel, one of the 
funniest things I ever saw, was pulled off. 

Among the hunters was a young fellow 
who was continually stirring up trouble by 
quarreling. At O'Loughlin's he began im- 



122 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

posing upon a quiet, peaceable man who never 
bothered anybody. The boys persuaded him 
to challenge the bully to fight a duel, telling 
him they would load the bully's gun with 
blank cartridges. The arrangements were 
soon made. The bully was willing to fight — 
at least he seemed to be. He was the only 
man in camp that did not know that the 
affair was a "frame up." The seconds were 
chosen, and the time and place of the meeting 
fixed. The weapons were to be six-shooters, 
at fifteen steps. 

The buffalo hunters lined up to see the 
fight. The quiet fellow was to shoot over the 
bully's head, but close enough for him to 
hear the whistle of the bullet. At the 
command of "fire" both pistols cracked, but 
nobody was hit. The bully winced a bit at 
the sound of the bullet as it passed over his 
head. He soon went locoed, and became so 
badly frightened that he could hardly stand. 
His knees knocked together, and he trembled 
like a wet dog on a cold day. Before the 
second encounter could take place, the bully 
squawked, saying that he had enough. He was 
teased and rawhided until he left camp, and 
pulled out for pleasanter surroundings. 

As soon as the weather grew warmer, 
the hunters went to their camps. We returned 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 123 

to Silver Lake, but not finding buffaloes plen- 
tiful enough to make hunting profitable, we 
went over on what was known as White 
Woman's Fork, usually a dry stream, with 
water only in the rainy season. At this time 
the melting snow had formed pools. White 
Woman's Fork is between the Arkansas and 
the Smoky Hill. 

Buffaloes were so scarce that we followed 
White Woman's Fork to its head and there 
went over to the brakes of the Smoky Hill, 
and from there we pulled to Sand Creek, in 
Colorado. While on Sand Creek we camped 
one night where the Chivington massacre of 
Cheyenne Indians took place in the 60's. Chiv- 
ington was in comlmand of a force of Colorado 
troops, and took the Indians wholly by sur- 
prise. Among the Indians was Black Kettle's 
band of Cheyennes, afterwards destroyed by 
General Custer on the Washita in Southwest- 
ern Oklahoma. Chivington gave orders to 
kill everything that looked like an Indian — 
women and children, old and young — and his 
command was obeyed with utmost cruelty. 
We could see bones still scattered over the 
battleground. 

Our hunt for buffaloes was proving to 
be a kind of wild goose chase. We had made 
a complete circle, without finding them in 



124 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

sufficient numbers to warrant our hunting in 
any one place. We went back down the Ar- 
kansas until we reached Lakin, Kansas, where 
we stayed eight or ten days gathering up 
the hides we had left at different places. We 
hauled them to Dodge City. 

By this time the spring of 1873 was at 
hand. Callahan and I dissolved partnership, 
as Callahan wanted to go into the saloon 
business at Granada, Colorado. He lived there 
until General Miles started from Fort Dodge 
in 1874—0^1 his campaign against the south- 
west Plains Indians. Callahan went along as 
wagon master. 

I did not have enough of the buffalo 
game, however, and after going back to my 
old camp on Pawnee Fork, I crossed the Ar- 
kansas in May, 1873, and went up the river 
to what was known as Allberry Crossing, on 
the old Santa Fe trail. Here we camped and 
explored the country, but failed to find many 
buffaloes, and began working south toward 
the Cimarron — toward the forbidden and dan- 
gerous land. We struck the Cimarron at what 
was known as Wagonbed Springs, southwest 
of Dodge. At that time the Cimarron Biver 
was called the dead line. Few hunters had 
gone south of the Arkansas. Many who had 
been hunting around Dodge in 1872 and 1873 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 125 

had abandoned the hide business, because of 
Ihe diminishing number of buffaloes, and for 
the better reason that they did not wish to 
follow the main herd into the Indian country. 

Ranging between the Arkansas and the 
Cimarron in the summer of 1873, we worked 
west as far as the Beaver, in Stanton Coun- 
ty, Kansas. We prospered, as buffaloes were 
plentiful. Our hides were hauled to Granada, 
on the Colorado line. 

Along in the fall we went to Dodge and 
loaded up with supplies for an expedition 
even further south. We struck Crooked 
Creek and finally the Cimarron, ten miles be- 
low Wagonbed Springs, where we planned to 
stay during the winter, and built a dugout. 
Buffaloes were everywhere, but like the leaves 
of the winter forest — disappearing never to 
return. 

While in camp at this place we saw a 
spectacular sight. A big war party of Chey- 
ennes passed on their way to fight the Utes. 
The latter lived in Colorado. The Cheyennes 
were out for blood. Their horses were in 
fine shape, and each warrior was fully equip- 
ped with weapons. We learned that the Utes 
had long been in the habit of coming down 
to the buffalo country every fall to kill their 
winter's supply of meat. The Cheyennes, 



126 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

proud and arrogant, were opposed to this in- 
vasion of their hunting grounds by the moun- 
tain Indians and had decided to make an 
end of it if possible. Much has been written 
about the desperate warfare and the bloody 
battles between Indians and wliite men. I 
am rather of the opinion that war between 
Indian tribes was even worse. They fought 
to exterminate each other if possible. 

This expedition of Gheyennes was divided 
into many small parties- — three or four war- 
riors traveling together. We had heard of 
their attacking other buffalo hunters, and run- 
ning off their stock. We kept both eyes open, 
day and night. Frequently, these Indians 
would stop at our camp, to which we offered 
no objection if there were only a few in the 
party, but if fifteen or twenty came in sight, 
heading toward our camp, we signalled for 
them to pass around without stopping. We 
did not dare run the risk of letting a superior 
force of Indians get at close quarters under 
the guise of friendship, as soon every hunt- 
er's scalp would have been dangling on the 
Cheyenne bridles. Occasionally, upon ap- 
proaching, the Gheyennes would lay down 
their guns, and advance unarmed, to show 
that they did not intend to offer us injury. 
We always fed them well. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 127 

About fifteen warriors came into camp one 
day, and were soon greatly interested in a 
pair of field glasses that I used in looking 
over the country for landmarks, buffaloes 
and Indians. After letting our visitors look 
through them, I laid the glasses on a 
pile of bedding and thought no more about 
them. After the Indians had ridden away, I 
reached for the glasses to look over a bunch 
of Indians that had assembled on a hill a 
mile or so distant. The glasses had disap- 
peared. 

I was fighting mad, and determined to 
get my glasses or kill an Indian or two. 
Seizing my buffalo gun and mounting my best 
horse, I started in pursuit of the thieves. 
The rascals suspected my purpose, and long 
before I got within shooting range they scat- 
tered like quail and hid themselves. The 
country was rough and broken and I found 
it decidedly too dangerous to attempt to hunt 
them out. 

In approaching our camp, it had been 
the practice of the Cheyennes to come with 
their horses running at headlong speed, pos- 
sibly to "throw a scare" into the white men. 
We at once set our heads against this sort 
of thing, and soon convinced the Indians that 







mmm 


1 •/ ^<^^ ^HP^^^S^H 


'^^'-w ' "^ 





Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 129 

we would fire into them if the practice were 
repeated. 

All these Cheyennes were rigged out in 
full war style. Each had a led horse, his 
war horse, which was the Indian's pride, and 
which he loved above his other possessions. 
He gave his war horse the best of care, and 
kept him expressly for battle. 

The detachments of this big Cheyenne 
war party were about three days passing our 
camp, and during that time we remained 
close at home. One of us constantly stood 
guard on a high point close by. There was 
smell of Indian in the air. Our horses were 
picketed during the day, and at night we tied 
them to the wagons. There were only four 
of us, and we could not afford to make the 
slightest mistake. 

After the country was clear of Indians, 
we made a trip over on Sharpens Creek, but 
found no buffaloes — the passing of the Indians 
had scared the buffaloes out of their wits. If 
the buffaloes would not come to us, we would 
go to the buffaloes, so we shifted camp from 
the Cimarron down to the Beaver, in *No 
Man's Land." 

Making short drives each day, to spy out 
the country, we got as far west as the pres- 
ent town of Guymon, Okla., where we camped 

9D 



130 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

several days to clean up several scattering 
bunches of buffaloes, all bulls. These old 
bulls were easily killed, and their hides 
brought the best prices. 

Here we met some of the same Ghey- 
ennes that had passed our camp on the Cim- 
arron. They were on their way back home 
to Indian Territory. They recognized us. I 
had acquired some knowledge of the Chey- 
enne language, and questioned them about 
their trip to the Ute country. It was funny 
to hear them tell how they had "run the 
Utes clean over the mountains." They 
claimed they had killed stacks and stacks of 
Utes, going through the motions of how the 
Utes ran in getting away from the Cheyennes. 

After making a kill of buffaloes, the 
hides were always left on the ground to dry, 
before hauling them to market. We had 
left a big lot of hides and provisions at 
our Cimarron camp. The passing of the 
Indians on their way back home made us 
feel that it might be well to see what the 
situation was ' in our old camp.. We ex- 
pected to find all our hides gone and our 
provisions stolen; to our great surprise we 
found everything just as we had left it. The 
plains Indians were highly suspicious, and 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 131 

it is possible that they feared the provisions 
might be poisoned. 

The thinning out of the buffaloes made 
hunting laborious. Riding out early one 
morning, I managed to kill about thirty dur- 
ing the day's hunt, all of them cows. It was 
a strange fact that buffalo cows and bulls 
ranged together only during the breeding 
season; at other times they went in separate 
bunches. 

Next morning we went out to do our 
skinning. Having run short of meat, I had 
drawn several of the carcasses, and was so 
busily engaged that I did not notice what 
was going on around me. 

The day was warm, with the wind in 
the south. Then the wind died until there 
was perfect calm for about fifteen minutes. 
Suddenly, our attention was drawn to the 
unusual appearance of the sandhills to the 
north of us, along the river. We could see 
a fog of dust and sand, which struck us in 
a shorter time than it takes to tell it. We 
were caught in the jaws of a norther, the 
terror of the Plainsman. All animals seem 
to know instinctively when a norther is 
coming, and grow nervous and restless. 

It is difficult to see or to breathe when 
a norther is at its height, and unless good 



132 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

shelter is near at hand there is danger of 
quickly freezing to death. We were wise 
enough to know that the best thing for us 
to do would be to get back to camp as quick- 
ly as possible. Tossing our meat into the 
wagon, we jumped in and headed for cam]) 
with our mules at a gallop. On my horse I 
rode beside the mules, urging them along 
with my quirt. Despite our instant flight and 
our speed, we were nearly frozen when we 
arrived at camp. 

These winter storms usually exhausted 
themselves at the end of two or three days, 
but while they are raging it is impossible to 
leave camp with safety. 

After we had thawed out, we decided to 
tackle the Beaver country again, and went 
up that stream to a place then known as 
Company M, where we struck off" in a south- 
westerly direction and came to the Cold- 
water, which further toward its source is 
known as the Al Frio, which means "cold 
water," and undoubtedly was named by the 
Mexicans who used to hunt in that region. 
The favorite weapon of these Mexicans was 
the lance, which necessarily brought them at 
close quarters with the buffaloes, and re- 
quired swift horses. 

The Coldwater takes its rise from a num- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 133 

her of springs which form a series of re- 
markable pools of water. At this place after- 
wards was built one of the headquarters of 
the old XIT Ranch outfit. The buildings 
stand today as they did in earlier years, but 
the phase of life that dwelt there has van- 
ished forever. When the XIT established it- 
self in the Texas Panhandle, the cowboy was 
typical, genuine and picturesque. He was the 
cock of the walk, who could eat centipedes 
for breakfast and barbed wire for supper 
without injuring his digestion, and dance all 
night and ride all day without missing a step. 
His like will never be seen again. He had 
i\ rough hide and a tender heart, and an ear 
that was inclined to every hard luck story 
that passed his way. 

Buffalo Springs stands in the open Plains 
south of the Beaver and just south of the line 
that divides the Texas Panhandle from Cim- 
arron County, Oklahoma. Here is a consid- 
erable growth of timber, consisting of cot- 
tenwoods, elms and willows. The traveler 
will go many, many weary miles south be- 
fore he again sees a clump of timber of finds 
living water. 

The beginning of the Al Frio is a spring 
near a lone cottonwood tree about a mile 
west of the ranch house. The water rises in 



134 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

a fissure in the rock. Some rather fabu- 
lous stories have been told about its depth. 
Now follow a chain of deep pools of dark 
and steely clearness, chillingly cold even in 
hottest midsummer, with steep, precipitous 
banks, along which waves a dense and al- 
most impenetrable growth of reeds and tall, 
wiry grass. Here abound bass in such size 
and numbers as to tempt the most expert 
angler. 

Buffalo Springs is a veritable garden in 
the dry and dusty Plains, an oasis in the des- 
ert. Countless birds not found elsewhere on 
the Plains assemble here in summer, beauti- 
fying with song and bright plumage all the 
green, cool places. Flowers of exquisite 
fragrance and great brilliancy of color are 
found. There are many varieties. In fall 
and spring, migratory water- fowl descend to 
disport themselves in the pools. 

The ranch house, which still remains in 
excellent condition, was such a house as ap- 
pealed to a man seeking shelter from winter 
storms or summer heat. Its original walls of 
adobe were boxed and plastered, giving them 
a thickness of nearly two feet. On its dirt 
floors jangled many a spur. At the kitchen 
door hangs the triangle gong with which the 
cook called the "woollies" to meals. Struck 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 135 

with its heavy bar of iron, this old gong 
booms and rumbles until it can be heard 
far out on the Plains. Each of its sides 
measured more than two feet. 

When this region was wild and unin- 
habited, these springs were frequented by 
buffaloes in enormous numbers, crowding 
and fighting their way to water. In the 
neighborhood of the pools w^ere treacherous 
bogs which at this day are a menace to live 
stock. In the old days buffaloes must have 
mired there by hundreds. 

Here the Indians encountered this noble 
game to their liking. A mile or two east of 
the springs, there is a) slight swell in the Plains 
where the Comanches are said to have main- 
tained their hunting camp when in that vi- 
cinity. From this camp the Plains could be 
surveyed for miles in every direction. Mount- 
ing their horses, the Indian hunters descended 
like thunderbolts upon the buffaloes massed 
at the springs, and slaughtered them at will. 
The hides were pegged down and dried in 
camp and the meat hung on poles and cured 
in the dry, pure air for winter use. A kill 
could be made as often as the red hunters 
wished to rush to the attack. 

This account of the history of Buffalo 
Springs has been given by Mr. John Skelley, 



136 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

one of the rugged and reliable pioneers of 
Cimarron county; he lives at the postofTice of 
Wheeless : 

"I was at Bufi'alo Springs as early as 
1878, when I was a boy 14 years old. At that 
time there were no buildings. There had 
been some adobes made, either by Bill Hall, 
of Kansas City, or Dan Taylor of Trinidad, or 
both, in order to build a house to shelter 
their winter line-riders, as a line-camp was 
kept at the Springs every winter. My father 
was a freighter at Trinidad, where I was 
raised, and he hauled the lumber down to 
Buffalo Springs from Trinidad, to cover and 
floor the house. I made the trip with him. 
This was in 1878. 

"The house was never built, as the fall 
and winter of '78 were so cold and severe 
that the line-riders burned all the lumber for 
wood. The nearest timber was on the Cur- 
rumpaw or Beaver, about eight or ten miles 
northwest of the Springs, where there are 
still a few stunted cedars and a growth of 
cottonwoods. 

"In 1884 the Capitol Freehold Land & 
Cattle Syndicate established a ranch at Buf- 
falo Springs. This company is the one that 
built the capitol at Austin, Texas, for 
which it was paid in millions of acres of 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 137 

land. This ranch was stocked with cattle. 
I worked for the man who had the fence 
contract. We finished the contract in De- 
cember, 1885. 

"During that year the owners had put 
in about 20,000 head of cattle, brought from 
the south. Better grass could not be found 
anywhere. A few mustangs and buffaloes 
were still left in the country, but disappeared 
from that vicinity in 1887. Stragglers could 
be found around Company M water as late 
as 1889. This water was six or eight miles 
southeast of the present town of Boise City, 
the county seat of Cimarron county, Okla- 
homa. 

"In the fall of 1885 a big prairie fire 
broke out and swept the country bare from 
the Beaver south almost to the South Can- 
adian. We fought it with all our strength, 
but there were not men enough in the coun- 
ttry to get it under control. This misfortune 
was followed by an early and severe winter. 
The company at Buffalo Springs drifted its 
herds out to the Canadian and to the south 
Plains, yet despite every precaution the loss 
was tremendous. I was told that only 7,000 
head of tthe 20,000 were gathered the follow- 
ing spring. 

"The company did not jump the game, 



138 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

but went ahead next year. Old man Boise, 
who was killed by Sneed, was general man- 
ager of the company for a good many years, 
and built up a fine ranch. A man named 
Campbell was the first manager at Buffalo 
Springs, followed by an Englishman named 
Maud. After these came Boise, who took the 
outfit about 1890. 

"The timber that is growing at Buffalo 
Springs was planted by the company, and is 
not a natural growth. I know of no natural 
timber south of there until thte Canadian is 
reached, though the company has set out sev- 
eral tracts in timber, and there is now lots 
of water in wells on their holdings between 
Buffalo Springs and the Canadian. 

"In the old days when we left Buffalo 
Springs and traveled southeast we found no 
live water until we got to the head of the 
Rita Blanco, about fifty miles distant, and 
ten or twelve miles southeast of the present 
town of Delhart. There was and still is wat- 
er at what we used to call the Perico water- 
holes, some 10 or 12 miles south of the Ranch, 
but this water has neither source nor outlet, 
as it rises and then sinks again, the Perico 
gradually vanishing in the Plains. 

"The Springs was a great hunting ground 
for buffaloes. In the fall of 1878 the valley 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 139 

was alive with buffaloes and mustangs, and 
when I was there in that year I saw several 
hunters' camps. A long time ago I talked to 
old Mexicans who told me that they hunted 
buffaloes at the Springs when they were boys. 
They said that expeditions of both Mexicans 
and Navajoes came from the settlements on 
the Rio Grande, in New Mexico, to procure 
their winter's meat. 

"There was an old trail leading to the 
Springs from New Mexico, thence to Agua 
Frio, and on down through the country to 
the eastward. We used to call this the 'old 
buffalo trail.' I have not seen it in more than 
twenty-five years, but am told that it has be- 
come so overgrown with grass that it has 
almost disappeared. When I was there as a 
boy there were thousands of antelope on the 
Plains; now most of them are gone. The 
Fort Worth & Denver City railroad company 
began running its trains through the com- 
pany's big estate in the spring of 1888, which 
hastened the disappearance of the game." 

We camped over night at Buffalo Springs, 
and next day followed the Al Frio or Cold- 
water, which is a dry stream with occasional 
water holes. After proceeding about thirty 
miles, we saw that the stream was bearing 
too far to the north, so we turned south and 



140 Life of "Billy" Dixqn 

struck the brakes of the Big Blue, a tribu- 
tary of the South Canadian. This was a 
new country to all of us, and as strange to 
us as if we were its first visitors. We came 
to a pool that was alive with all kinds of 
fish, and in all directions deer and wild 
turkeys seemed as thick as grasshoppers. 
With a whoop, everybody voted unanimously 
to go into camp at this place. 

As a fisherman I never had any luck. 
Leaving this sport to the rest of the outfit, 1 
mounted my horse, and set out to explore 
the surrounding country. In roaming around, 
I reached an abandoned Mexican camp on 
one of the prongs of the Blue. It had been 
untenanted for years. I was told by older 
hunters that the Mexicans used to come here 
every fall to kill buffaloes, bringing pack 
trains. They remained until they got a win- 
ter's supply of meat, drying the meat and 
rendering the tallow. 

I rejoined the outfit and we kept moving 
until we reached the South Canadian, cross- 
ing this stream at a point near where the 
LX Banch was afterwards located. Further 
south, we struck Palo Duro Canyon below the 
waterfalls. This was a dry stream, and we 
were compelled to rely upon melted snow for 
ourselves and stock. We crossed Mulberrv 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 141 

Greek at its head waters, and camped there 
several days. 

After crossing the Canadian, we began 
seeing signs of Mexican hunters, the spots 
where they had camped the preceding fall 
being plainly visible. Shifting our course 
more to the northeast, we crossed the head 
tributaries of Salt Fork and North Fork of 
Red River, coming back to the Canadian 
about twenty miles above where Canadian 
City, Texas, now stands. 

During all this wandering we had not 
seen a white man, nor a human being of any 
kind — only a vast wilderness, inhabited by 
game — truly the hunter's paradise. When we 
saw Red River we thought that it certainly 
must be the South Canadian, being misled by 
the fact that both were sandy streams and 
both dry at that time. We could see a differ- 
ence between the two, however, when we got 
to the Canadian. 



CHAPTER VI. 

TJ UGGING the south side of the Canadian, 
-*■ -^ we followed an old trail, called the Fort 
Smith and Fort Bascom trail, up to White 
Deer Creek, a beautiful, clear-running stream, 
fringed abundantly with timber. Right op- 
posite the mouth of this stream, on the north 
side of the Canadian, are the old ruins of 
the original Adobe Walls, though at the time 
we were ignorant of this fact, and passed 
without halting at this historic place. 

Crossing to the north side of the Can- 
adian, we reached Moore's Creek, and were 
delighted to find that all along the Canadian, 
every four or five miles, were running streams 
of fine water. All the streams were timbered, 
^;ome more heavily than others, and in the 
branches of the tall cottonwoods wild tur- 
keys roosted by thousands, while deer and 
antelopes in great herds grazed in the grassy 
bottoms 

On Bugbee Creek we passed a camp 
where a white man named Wheeler had been 
killed that fall (1873) by Indians. The brush 
along the creeks was alive with quail, and 
we could see signs of fur animals, such as 
beaver, mink and otter. I was now going 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 143 

over ground that I should see again, but lit- 
tle did I dream of what the future would 
be. 

We left the river at Moore's Greek, and 
went north until we struck the Palo Duro 
again, below where we had crossed it on our 
way down. Here we found quite a number 
of buffalo hunters camped for the winter. 

Our object in making this trip was to 
locate a good buffalo range for the following 
summer. Our reason for going at this time 
of year was that there would be less danger 
of being molested by Indians, as the latter 
did not travel in winter, if they could avoid it, 
preferring the idleness and pleasure of a 
warm winter camp, well supplied with buffa- 
lo meat. Occasionally, however, a party of 
young bucks, thirsty for glory in taking scalps, 
would brave the cold weather and make a 
raid. After lying around camp with the boys 
on the Palo Duro for several days, we headed 
for our old camp on the Cimarron, where we 
found ourselves short of supplies, and con- 
tinued on to Dodge City. 

In making this big circle to Buffalo 
Springs, Red River, the ruins of Adobe Walls 
and back to Dodge City, we saw very few 
buffaloes; only now and then would we run 
across a bunch of old bulls. However, there 



144 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

were signs everywhere showing where thous- 
ands had been herding together, and w^e felt 
certain that they would come back to their 
old range in the spring. 

It was sometime in February, 1874, when 
we got back to Dodge. We had seen enough 
to satisfy us that the thing to do would be 
to go down on the Canadian as soon as the 
weather settled. While waiting, we went out 
northwest of Dodge on my old hunting 
grounds. This was the last hunting I ever did 
north of the Arkansas. My face was set to- 
ward the forbidden country, where the In- 
dians were looking for the scalps of white 
men. 

In the latter part of March, 1874, I went 
into Dodge City, and there I met up with a 
lot of buffalo hunters who had come to town 
to get away from the lonesomeness, and have 
good time. There was lots of talk about the 
increasing scarcity of buffaloes on the old 
range, and all of us agreed that we would 
have to drift further south to make buftalo- 
hunting a paying business. 

Those of us who had been venturing 
down in the Panhandle country described 
what we had seen, and gave our opinion of 
the region as a buffalo range, whicl), cf 
course, was favorable. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 145 

In Dodge City at this time was a man 
named A. G. Myers, in the general merchan- 
dise business, who had once been a buffalo- 
hunter, and had built a smoke-house on 
Pawnee Fork, where he cured buffalo hams 
for eastern markets. The meat was prepared 
for smoking by taking the two hind quarters 
and dividing each into three chunks, which 
made six pieces of boneless meat, about the 
size of an ordinary pork ham. Myers sugar- 
cured each piece, smoked it, and sewed it in 
canvas. This kind of buffalo meat was the 
choicest, and commanded a high price on the 
market. Only a few dealers cured their meat 
in this way. 

All the hunters assembled at Dodge were 
convinced that never again would there be a 
big run of buffaloes that far north, because 
of the enormous slaughter on that part of 
their range in 1872 and 1873. Our determina- 
tion to drift south was opposed some- 
somewhat by the handicap of being so far 
from a hide market. Myers solved this ques- 
tion by deciding to take his outfit and stock 
of merchandise and pull down into the good 
buffalo country, somewhere on the Canadian. 
We had no definite point in view, expecting 
to locate our camp where grass, timber, wat- 
er and buffaloes most abounded. 

lOD 



146 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

Myers was quick to see that a big de- 
cline in the buttalo trade at Dodge was at 
hand, and was willing to take the risk of 
going with us to get our trade. We did not 
think much about it at the time, but had we 
calmly discussed what was ahead of us, all 
would have seen that the undertaking was 
not without peril to life. We were leaving 
such protection as there was in the garrisoned 
country and plunging into a solitude through 
which we would have to fight our way, if at- 
tacked, or die at the hands of hostile Indians, 
an enemy that inflicted the most horrible 
forms of death imaginable, should the victim 
be captured alive. There would be no getting 
away by making a fast run to Fort Dodge or 
Fort Hays; it meant fighting to the last ditch, 
and victory to the strong. 

Myers' plan was that every hunter that 
wanted to go should load his wagons with 
supplies, such as were used on the buffalo 
range, for which Myers would pay a liberal 
freight rate, and upon establishing permanent 
camp Myers would sell the supplies to the 
hunters at Dodge City prices. This seemed 
fair enough. Myers owned two teams and 
wagons. The organizing of this expedition 
caused much enthusiasm among the hunters 
at Dodge, and many wanted to go along. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 147 

About this time James Hanrahan, a typi- 
cal frontiersman, who hunted buffaloes on a 
large scale, came to town. Hearing of the 
trip we were planning, Hanrahan decided to 
take his whole outfit and go with us. This 
was a good boost, as we were delighted to 
welcome every new-comer, especially a man 
like Hanrahan, who had lots of nerve and 
knew all the ins and outs of frontier life. 

Soon every man was busily engaged in 
gathering his equipment for the long trip to 
the new country. There were many things 
to do, and forgot any necessary part of an 
outfit would cause annoyance and trouble, as 
we would be far from a railroad.. We had 
no idea when w^e would get back to civiliza- 
tion. A lot of fellows at Dodge thought that 
maybe we might never get back. They nar- 
rowly missed making a good guess. 

Three or four days before we were ready 
to bid farewell to Dodge, there came from 
the east a stranger named Fairchild — his first 
trip to this rendezvous of the buffalo-hunter, 
the bull-whacker and the "bad" man. Natur- 
ally, Fairchild was regarded as a "tender- 
foot." 

Fairchild was wildly ambitious to plunge 
head over heels into the stormy life of the 
frontier. When he heard of our expedition, 



148 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

he shouted for joy, and made arrangements 
to go along. 

My first glimpse of Fairchild made me^ 
finger my sights, for he certainly looked like 
game. He was arrayed in a shining broad- 
cloth suit, a "plug" hat, a flower-bed vest,, 
and a cravat that resembled a Rocky Mountain 
sunset. That he might behold the sights of 
Dodge in proper fashion, he had hired a 
livery horse, equipped with a "muley" sad- 
dle, and was riding up and down the streets, 
as if he owned the whole town. His get-up 
was so unusual in Dodge that it caused much 
talk and laughter. 

If the raiment of the East was imposing 
and spectacular, that of the West was far 
more overpowering when assembled by a man 
like Fairchild. The day before we pulled out 
I saw him again, but hardly knew him. He 
had jumped from the extreme East to the 
extreme West, and at a single bound. He 
was attired in a hangup brown ducking suit, 
high-heeled boots, and spurs that rolled along 
like cart-wheels. His white sombrero was 
wide enough for an umbrella. Round his 
neck was a bandana more brilliant than a 
Cheyenne pony pain)ted for the warpath. 
His belt was full of cartridges, and sticking 
from holster and scabbard were a six-shooter 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 149 

and a butcher knife, fearful and murderous- 
looking weapons. In his hands, with the 
air of a gay cavalier, he bore a big "50" 
rifle, for which he had paid the considerable 
sum of $85. The boys had primed him to 
buy the butcher knife in the belief that he 
needed something of the kind to scalp In- 
dians when he slew them far, far from their 
homes in the forest. 

There was every indication that Fair- 
child was well supplied with money. He 
came from Illinois and belonged to a good 
family, was well educated, and had been ad- 
mitted to the bar. But he yearned for west- 
ern adventure, and abandoned his profession 
to satisfy his chief and burning ambition. 
It was impossible that such a man could 
escape ceaseless banter in a crowd like ours. 

However, Fairchild was not more de- 
lighted than myself when the day of depar- 
ture came. In scouting the country, I had 
seen that big money could be made by a 
good hunter. I was not without confidence 
in my marksmanship. When we moved out 
of Dodge there were about fifty men and 
thirty wagons. Each man had provided him- 
self with a saddle horse. I was never with- 
out one — the best that money could buy in 
that country. 



150 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

All the wagons were heavily loaded, 
which compelled us to drive at easy stages. 
We got to Crooked Creek the first day out 
of Dodge. There was never a happier lot 
of men in the world. All were in rugged 
health, none in need, most of them inured 
to the hardships of life in the wilderness, 
each confident that he could take care of 
himself, sure of the help of his comrades in 
any emergency, and everybody as merry and 
jolly as could be. If there was care of 
any kind, it was too light to be felt. We ate 
like wolves, and could have digested a dry 
buffalo hide with the hair on. Spring was 
on the way, and the air was light and bouy- 
ant, making the days and nights an endless 
delight. 

The youngest of our party was "Bat" 
Masterson, who was to win a reputation not 
only as a member of this expedition, but in 
many other places in later years. It seems 
remarkable that finally Masterson should 
wander as far east as New York City and 
become a newspaper writer. He was a chunk 
of steel, and anything that struck him in 
those days always drew fire. In age, I was 
perhaps next to Masterson, being now in my 
twenty-fourth year. 

Best of all was when we camped at night. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 151 

when there would be singing, dancing, music 
and telling of tales. In the party were a 
number of veterans of the Civil War, with 
endless stories of desperate battles that were 
greatly to our liking. After we had eaten 
heartily, and the camp-fire was aglow and 
crackling under the stars, some fellow would 
stretch and peg down a dry buffalo hide on 
which the men would dance turn about or 
in couples. The hide gave a much better 
footing for dancing than might be supposed, 
and was stiff enough and hard enough to 
respond in the liveliest way to jigging. There 
were always fiddlers in a crowd like ours, 
perhaps an accordeon, and a dozen fellows 
who could play the French harp. The scene 
was picturesque and pleasing. Round us 
rolled the interminable Plains, arched by the 
glittering sky, and in the fire-light the rollick- 
ing buffalo hunters sang and danced. There 
were no night sounds in this vast silence, 
save those of our camp or the yelping of 
coyotes and howling of wolves, disturbed by 
this strange invasion of their prowling 
ground. 

It was agreed that every man in the par- 
ty should do something for the entertainment 
of his companions at these gatherings round 
the camp-fire — dance, sing a song or tell a 



152 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

story. There was no dodging, we had to 
come across. As I never danced, wasn't 
much of a talker, and couldn't possibly sing, 
all this was hard on me. I did my best, 
however, even trying to learn to play a fiddle, 
which had been given to me by a friend at 
Hays City. But there was no music in me — 
I couldn't scratch out "Dan Tucker." Long 
afterwards, when I was married and my old- 
est daughter developed a talent for music, I 
was greatly pleased, though aware of the 
fact that she had inherited none of it from 
me. 

Drinking in the pure fresh air of the 
Plains, we rolled from our blankets every 
morning, clear-headed and ready for any en- 
terprise. Just to feel one's self living in that 
country was a joy. We heard nothing and 
cared nothing about politics; it made little 
difference to us who was president of the 
United States; we worked hard, had enough 
money for our common needs, and were hap- 
py, happier perhaps that we ever were in 
later years. Youth probably had much to 
do with our contentment. 

The second day's travel brought us to the 
Cimarron River, and here we stopped at 
one of my old camp-grounds. We had 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 153 

reached the "dead line" — beyond was hostile 
Indian country. 

I am moved here to say something about 
the Cimarron. This stream rises in New 
Mexico, and after passing through the north- 
eastern corner of that State, it nips off a 
small part of the southeast corner of Colo- 
rado and passes into the State of Kansas. 
After a bend to northward, it flows south into 
that part of Oklahoma once known as "Neut- 
ral Strip" or "No Man's Land," jogs back 
into Kansas between Clark and Comanche 
counties, and then turns for the last time into 
Oklahoma, where it pursues a generally 
southeast course until it meets the Arkansas 
River in the central part of the State. Cim- 
arron is a Spanish word, meaning "outcast, 
outlaw, or wanderer," a name sometimes ap- 
plied in Spanish-speaking countries to a 
steer that wanders away from* the herd and 
ranges alone, wild and intractable. 

The Cimarron is true to its name. Though 
born of white mountain snows, its waters 
soon become red and turbid. In Oklahoma 
the Cimarron crosses several large expanses 
of salt, making its water undrinkable; in fact, 
so much salt is held in solution that a large 
swallow of the water is sufficient to produce 
nausea. The bed of the Cimarron in the 



154 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

Plains or prairie country is flat and sandy, 
though at rare intervals it has rugged shores. 
Throughout a greater portion of the year, the 
volume of water to be seen by the eye is 
small, the current crawling snake-like along 
its sandy waste. Rarely, however, is the 
Cimarron without a perceptible current, and 
usually this current has a rapid flow. 

The Cimarron is commonly regarded as 
one of the most dangerous streams in the 
southwest. Its width often is three or four 
hundred yards. If there were no sand, the 
stream would be rather imposing in size. It 
is filled to the brim with sand, however, and 
through the sand is an underflow. The quick- 
sands of the Cimarron are notorious. No 
crossing is ever permanently safe. The sand 
grips like a vise, and the river sucks down 
and buries all that it touches — trees, wagons, 
horses, cattle and men alike, if the latter 
should be too weak to extricate themselves. 
In the old days countless buffaloes bogged 
down and disappeared beneath the sands of 
the Cimarron. Their dismembered skeletons 
are frequently uncovered at this day when 
the river is in flood. 

After a rise, the Cimarron is peculiarly 
dangerous. As it boils and rolls along, the 
river loosens and hurls forward an astonish- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 155 

ing quantity of sand. Unless naked a man 
quickly finds himself pulled down by the in- 
creasing weight of sand that lodges in his 
clothes, and swimming becomes difficult, and 
finally impossible, save without tremendous 
exertion. Stripped bare, a swimmer can sus- 
tain himself in the Cimarron with greater 
ease than in most other streams, as the salt 
and sand give the water extraordinary buoy- 
ancy. No man should ever tackle the Cim- 
arron in flood until after he has stripped to 
the skin and kicked off his boots. The ex- 
perienced cow-pony seems to realize its dan- 
ger when crossing the Cimarron, taking short, 
quick steps, and moving forward without the 
slightest pause. To stop would be to sink 
in the quicksand. 

The Cimarron is subject to sudden and 
dangerous floods, floods that seem to come 
from nowhere. In central Oklahoma, for ex- 
ample, weeks may pass without a drop of 
rain. A settler crosses the river at noon, 
blinded by the clouds of sand that have been 
whipped up by the wind, and finding . the 
water scarcely reaching his horses' knees. 
Fifteen minutes later he returns to the cross- 
ing, and finds the river roaring and thunder- 
ing from bank to bank. What is known as a 
"head rise," formed by a cloud-burst far out 



156 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

in the Plains country, has come down, a solid 
wall of water often four or five feet in height. 
Sometimes two or more of these "head rises" 
follow each other in succession. The sand is 
torn loose and brought up from the very bot- 
tom of the river. To venture into the Cim- 
arron at such times would be folly. If it 
must be crossed, the safest way is to ride a 
horse that knows how to handle himself in 
a flood of this kind. If the rider can swim 
it is usually best for him to seize his horse's 
tail, and follow behind. The safest thing to 
do is to stay on dry land until the flood has 
passed, and then sound the crossing. The lat- 
ter can be made firm by driving a herd of 
cattle back and forth, which causes the sand 
to precipitate and begin packing, soon form- 
ing a bar. 

The Salt Fork of the Arkansas and the 
South Canadian are counterparts of the Cim- 
arron in the dangers they oppose to travelers 
and live stock. 

After crossing the Cimarron, which we 
accomplished without difficulty, we held a 
conference to discuss how we should meet 
the Indian problem, as discretion and pru- 
dence now impelled us to proceed with cau- 
tion. It was agreed that if we should en- 
counter Indians and find them manifesting 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 157 

friendship we would do likewise. This was 
their country, we argued, and if they would 
leave us alone, we would be willing to do an 
even better job than the Indians in this par- 
ticular. 

Ever since we had left Dodge City Fair- 
child had been eager to get into an Indian 
fight, and had bragged about what he would 
do when the time came. He said that he 
would not allow an Indian to do or say the 
least thing to him without his killing the 
Indian. He was bad medicine from the forks 
of the creek, a wolf with hydrophobia, a 
blizzard in July. 

We fully understood the fact the Fair- 
child did not realize how much trouble a 
break on his part might bring to the whole 
outfit! We really feared that he might fire 
upon a peaceable Indian, and cause all of 
us to be massacred. 

So it was thought best by several prac- 
tical jokers among us to take time by the 
forelock in the particular case of the blood- 
thirsty Fairchild. We waited until we had 
reached the South Canadian before dosing 
out the medicine to him. 

Fairchild loved to hunt, and would ride 
away from the outfit nearly every day, after 
deer and antelope. Some of the men had 



158 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

made Fairchild believe that he could kill an 
antelope at a distance of two miles, and he 
would blaze away as far as he could see 
them. 

By "scratch" shots, Fairchild managed to 
kill several antelope and he swelled up with 
pride until he was almost unrecognizable. 
What finally happened to him will be told 
later. 

After leaving the Cimarron, we crossed 
"No Man's Land." In the brakes of the Cim- 
arron we had the hardest kind of pulling, as 
there was lots of sand and the country 
rough. The fourth day brought us to the 
Beaver, the main prong of the North Cana- 
dian, its other branch being Wolf Greek. Both 
the Beaver and Wolf Creek unite at Camp 
Supply, the point to which I had helped haul 
supplies for the Custer expedition, with the 
outfit of mules that stampeded in harness as 
we were returning to Fort Hays. 

This time we struck the Palo Duro at its 
mouth, where there was plenty of water. 
Here we camped and then moved into the 
Panhandle of Texas. Now we began strik- 
ing camps of buffalo-hunters who had pre- 
pared to stay on the Plains during the win- 
ter. They were as glad to see us as we were 
to find them. The coming of more hunters 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 159 

made everybody feel more secure, if there 
should be an outbreak by the Indians. 

In one of these camps were Fred Singer, 
who now lives in Dodge City, and two 
Englishmen, Jim and Bob Gator, both of 
whom I had met at Hays City, Kansas, in 
1870, when they had just arrived from Eng- 
land, and were still wearing knee breeches 
and buckles. Their togs attracted a great 
deal of attention. The Gators became close 
friends of mine in later years. Bob went to 
Oregon, and Jim settled on Palo Duro, in 
Hansford county, where he now runs a cow 
ranch close to where he was camped at the 
time of which I write. Bob Gator was the 
hirst postmaster in Hansford Gounty, and 
when the latter was organized he was elected 
county judge, holding the office a number of 
years. Jim and Bob Gator named Dixon 
Greek, in Hutchinson Gounty, in remem- 
brance of the fact that I built a dugout and 
was the first man to camp on this creek in 
1874. After I went away, they occupied the 
dugout. This creek still bears my name. 

After the Gators had settled on Palo 
Duro, two brothers, a sister and Jim Gator's 
sweetheart came out from England and join- 
ed them. They could scarcely have gone to 
a more remote place, and the change be- 




James H. Cato 



Texas, Panhandle Pioneer. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 161 

Iween England and the Panhandle country, 
as they found it at that time, must have been 
startling. Jim married his sweetheart at 
Dodge City. Having business at Granada, he 
took his bride along; the boys teased him 
about his "wedding" trip. Both the young 
women were refined and highly educated. 
Miss Gator was an accomplished horsewoman, 
one of the best I ever saw. She taught 
school for several years and then married 
Glate McGrea. She is still living in Hans- 
ford county. 

Determined that we would keep moving 
until we found the best buffalo country, we 
went south from Palo Duro and struck 
Moore's Greek at its source, following this 
stream to the South Canadian River, where 
we camped about two miles below the present 
town of Plemons. 

Here we were disappointed at not finding 
the grass better; there was hardly enough 
grass for our stock. I am convinced that a 
number of the Panhandle streams are gradu- 
ally changing. I easily recall the fact that 
Moore's Greek then was a narrow, swift-run- 
ning stream, and at almost any point a man 
could jump across it. Since that day, Moore's 
Greek has been frequented by great herds of 
cattle which trample its sandy shores until 

IID 



162 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

wind and rain have flattened its once steep 
banks and given the stream a width of sev- 
eral hundred yards. This is true of a ma- 
jority of the smaller streams that flow into 
the South Canadian in the Panhandle coun- 
try. 

In this camp on the South Canadian we 
paid our respects to Fairchild. All liked him, 
but he was so bent upon killing an Indian 
that we felt something must be done, as we 
w^ere not down in that country to hunt In- 
dians. Though severe, the dose had to be 
administered. Of course, everybody save 
Fairchild knew what was going on. 

In a large grove of cottonwoods just 
above our camp hundreds upon hundreds of 
wild turkeys roosted every night. When a 
turkey hunt was proposed, to take place at 
night, Fairchild grew so eager and excited 
to go that he could scarcely control him- 
self. 

Three men were selected to slip quietly 
out of camp and at a certain place in the 
timber have a fire burning when the hunting 
party got there. One of them came back to 
serve as guide. Ostensibly he was to lead 
the hunters to the best and biggest roost, 
but actually he was to pilot them to the im- 
mediate vicinity of the fire. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 163 

Fairchild was so impatient to start that 
it was difficult to persuade him to wait until 
darkness had fallen and the turkeys had set- 
tled to roost. 

I do not believe it would have been pos- 
sible to find a man who loved practical jok- 
ing more than did "Bat" Masterson. He was 
in his glory at that sort of thing, and was for- 
ever pulling off something of the kind. "Bat" 
was one of the three that had gone out to 
build the fire. He now came to camp, ready 
to pilot the hunters where they would "sure 
find a million turkeys" — and the camp-fire. 

It was arranged that "Bat" should start 
out, with Fairchild close at his heels, and My- 
ers bringing up the rear. "Bat" cautioned Fair- 
child to keep both eyes wide open and to move 
to keep both eyes wide open and to move 
softly, as the turkeys must not be frightened. 

Rounding a bend of the creek, where 
the timber was dark and dense, the hunters 
suddenly found themselves slap-bang against 
a camp-fire in full blaze. "Bat" motioned to 
Fairchild to move back into the timber. The 
three then held a consultation to discover, if 
possible, who had built the fire. "Bat" was 
dead sure that it was an Indian camp; he 
had been dreaming about Indians two or 
three nights he said, and was now fearful 



164 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

that the worst was at hand. Myers tried to 
argue that "Bat" was mistaken and rattled, 
if not actually showing a streak of yellow; 
anyway, he was willing to bet that Fairchild 
could whip all the Indians in the Panhandle 
if given a fair show. 

Bang! Bang! Bang! Half a dozen shots 
were fired in the direction of the hunters. 
The bullets whistled and ripped through the 
branches close above their heads. Myers took 
the lead back to camp, yelling bloody murder 
at every step, to terrify Fairchild. "Bat" 
came last, gradually dropping behind and 
firing his six-shooter until Fairchild was con- 
fident that the most desperate fight with In- 
dians imaginable was at hand. 

"Bun, Fairchild; run for your life!" 
shouted Masterson. 

At a bound Fairchild had passed Myers, 
and tore into camp like a tornado coming 
through a forest. He was half a mile ahead 
of "Bat" and Myers. They had led him far 
enough away to give him a long, hard run. 

Fairchild stumbled and fell exhausted on 
a pile of bedding, gasping for breath, his 
eyes distended and his teeth chattering. We 
crowded round, seemingly in great alarm, 
asking him a thousand questions about the 
cause of his fright. For several minutes he 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle. 165 

was unable to speak, and acted as if he were 
suffocating. Finally, he managed to say in 
a hoarse whisper: 

"Injuns." 

"Oh, men, he must be shot," exclaimed 
a mischievous hunter. 

Thereupon, another joker seized a butch- 
er knife and ripped Fairchild's shirt down 
the back from collar to tail. Another, frantic- 
ally calling for water, and finding none, 
emptied the contents of the camp coffee pot 
down Faichild's bare back, which alarmed 
Fairchild with the fear that he had been 
wounded. 

Fairchild was recovering by the time 
Myers and Masterson and the men who had 
been at the camp-fire, closely approaching 
camp, bounded in with a great rush, panting 
for breath, and began upbraiding Fairchild 
for abandoning them to the mercy of the 
Indians. We had asked Fairchild what had 
become of "Bat" and Myers, and he feebly 
replied : 

"Killed, I guess." 

"How many Indians were there, and did 
you see them?" 

He answered that he did not know how 
many there were, because of the way they 
shot, but he was sure that the timber was 



166 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

full of them. Once he heard something whiz 
past his head which he knew was not a 
bullet, but an arrow. 

Masterson now stepped forward and 
tremblingly declared that the whole turkey 
roost country was alive with Indians. In- 
stantly, there was rushing to and fro in 
preparation for defense. Serious, perhaps 
fatal trouble for everybody, was at hand; 
the devil was to pay and no pitch hot. All 
kinds of suggestions were offered as to what 
was best to do. Some of the boys were in 
favor of starting at once for Dodge City, as 
the Indians would be unable to follow our 
trail at night, and we might get far enough 
away by daylight to escape. Fairchild was 
firmly committed to the Dodge City plan. 

More resolute men were in favor of 
fighting it out, if every man bit the dust, and 
proposed that a strong guard be thrown 
round the camp, and that the men take turns 
standing guard until morning. 

This plan was adopted, and the guards 
were stationed at regular intervals every- 
where round camp, save on the river side, 
where a high bank offered protection against 
sudden surprise. 

Fairchild was placed on guard near- 
est the river, and warned to maintain a vig- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 167 

ilant lookout along the edge of the bank, as 
the Indians might swim up the river, and 
plug him when he wasn't looking, after 
which they could kill everybody in camp. 
As a matter of fact, it would have been im- 
possible for the enemy to approach in this 
manner, because of the swiftness of the wat- 
er, and the banks were too high and steep 
to be scaled. 

By this time Fairchild was ready to be- 
lieve anything he heard and was so badly 
rattled that he failed to see that we had left 
our camp fire burning, something that we 
would never have done had we actually felt 
that Indians were in the vicinity, as fires 
would have exposed us to a broadside from 
the darkness. Fairchild was in no frame of 
mind to think of trifles, and obeyed all orders 
without asking why. 

The guards were stationed, and shortly 
afterwards, one by one, they came in, all 
save Fairchild, who stood at his post. There 
was much noisy laughter over the trick we 
had played on him. When Fairchild failed 
to meet the next guard, he became suspic- 
ious, and drew near camp, where he over- 
heard what we were saying. Then he came 
in, with blood in his eye. I have often 
thought that he was the angriest man I ever 



168 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

saw in my life. We were too many for him, 
or else he would have crippled somebody. 
He refused to eat breakfast, and sulked for 
several days. This cured him, however, of 
wanting to kill an Indian, and ever after- 
wards he was a good hunter and a good 
fellow. 

The last time I saw Fairchild he had his 
sleeves rolled up, skinning buffaloes, and on 
his face was a coat of tan half an inch 
thick. He bore little resemblance to the ten- 
derfoot I had first seen at Dodge City. 

Fairchild was not the only fellow we 
treated in this manner. The boys delighted 
in playing jokes upon each other. The worst 
scare I ever got was in 1870 when I was 
working for a man near Fort Hays. He owned 
a herd of beef cattle which he had sold to 
the Government. One day three of us were 
out with the herd. The cattle had been 
stampeding practically every day, and we 
were having lots of trouble with them 

We were riding along the Saline River, 
looking for strays. Campbell, a member of 
the outfit, was a quarter of a mile behind 
Thompson and myself. Campbell suddenly 
emptied his six-shooter and dashed toward 
us, shouting "Indians!" at the top of his 
voice. He knew that he was mounted upon 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 169 

a much swifter horse than either of ours, 
and passed us Hke the wind. 

Thompson and I looked back, but could 
see no signs of Indians. We were certain, 
nevertheless, that Campbell was in earnest. 
We put both spurs to our horses and rode 
after him at top speed. The country was 
very rough, and we supposed that after 
Campbell and the Indians fired at each other, 
the Indians had dropped behind a ridge. We 
felt that we were making a run for our lives. 
Campbell was going so fast that we could not 
overtake him. Occasionally, he would stop 
long enough for us to come within speaking 
distance, whereupon he would shout, "Hur- 
ry up; there they come!" and dash away. 

He kept this up for about six miles. 
Our objective point was a wood-choppers' 
camp, where we expected to make a stand 
against the Indians. If we were killed, we 
could at least die among men of our own 
race. We were hopeful, however, of being 
able to beat the Indians off. 

Our horses were now in a lather, and 
rapidly breaking down. Rounding a little 
knoll, we saw Campbell lying on the ground 
and rolling from side to side, as if in acute 
pain. Perhaps he had been shot. Upon 
reaching him, we found to our inexpressible 



170 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

rage and disgust that his paroxysms were 
caused by laughter — he said that he had not 
seen an Indian all that day; just wanted to 
play a trick on us. We made Campbell 
swear not to tell the other boys; he kept his 
word. 



CHAPTER VII. 

WE had lots of fun sky-larking in our 
camp on Moore's Creek, but spring was 
coming on, and it was our wish to establish 
a permanent camp at the best possible place. 
Unconsciously, we were drawn to that place 
as other men, long, long before us, had been 
drawn, and which we reached by pulling 
right down the river bottom about twelve 
miles to what was then called West Adobe 
Walls Creek but which is now called Bent 
Creek. 

The latter is a beautiful stream, clear 
and swift. About a mile from its mouth 
stood the old ruins of the original Adobe 
Walls. Here we stopped and camped for the 
night. We had heard of these ruins ever 
since we had been in the Plains country. 
They were of great interest to us, and we 
carefully examined them, wondering what 
men in such a far-off day had ventured to 
establish themselves here, and why they had 
done so. We were not acquainted with the 
history of the place. We thought of Mexicans 
and different Indian tribes of the southwest. 
As a matter of fact, there are the remains 
of villages and old burial grounds on Wolf 



172 



Life of "Billy" Dixon 



Creek in the Panhandle which men who 
claim to know about such things declare are 
the remains of the easternmost extension of 
the Pueblo civilization. I have no opinion in 
the matter. 




Dixo?is Log Homestead on Site of Original 
Adobe Walls. 



When we first saw Adobe Walls, there 
were parts of walls still standing, some be- 
ing four or five feet high. The adobe bricks 
were in an excellent state of preservation. 
Many different stories have been told about 
this place and its origin. While I was hunt- 
ing buffaloes in southern Kansas I met up 
with a man named Charley Powell who had 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 173 

been a soldier in the Third Cavalry. He told 
me that in 1863, when they were going from 
Fort Smith, Arkansas, to Fort Bascom, New 
Mexico, the trail lay on the south of the 
Canadian, opposite Adobe Walls. The sol- 
diers crossed over and looked at the ruins. 
Even at that time none of the buildings was 
standing. 

Later, when I was serving as scout at 
Fort Elliott, Texas, I was talking with General 
Hatch one day, and we fell to discussing the 
Adobe Walls country. He told me that he 
passed up the Canadian in 1848 with a regi- 
ment of dragoons, going out west, and stop- 
ped to examine these ruins. He said that 
only the broken walls were to be seen and 
that there was much to indicate that the 
place long since had been abandoned. On 
this expedition he was a second Heutenant; 
at the time I talked with him he was Lieu- 
tenant Colonel of the Fourth United States 
Cavalry, and in command at Fort Elliott, an 
old, gray-haired man. He was shrewd and 
very industrious. He took pride in improv- 
ing Fort Elliott, and had a mania for using 
adobe bricks in the erection of buildings. 
Employing Mexicans, who were past masters 
in the making of these bricks, Colonel Hatch 
built stables large enough to hold horses for 



174 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

three troops of cavalry. He put up so many 
adobe buildings at Fort Elliott that finally 
he was called "Doby" Hatch. 

It is probable that old Adobe Walls was 
built by Major William Bent, in the first 40's 
or earlier,, the year 1844 being possible. 
Major Bent's son, George Bent, now living at 
Colony, Okla., made this statement: 

"Bent & Company built Adobe Walls, 
as it is called. I cannot find out when it 
was built. It was a trading post to trade 
with the Comanches, Kiowas and Prairie 
Apaches. Bent & Company traded for horses 
and mules from the Indians. They sent their 
traders in summer time to trade for this 
stock. The post was not occupied in winter, 
as the Company did not trade for buffalo 
robes, as the trading post was too far from 
Bent's Fort on the Arkansas River to haul 
the hides. These horses and mules were 
driven to Missouri and sold; also, to the 
Platte Rivers, to be sold to the emigrants. 
The Comanches, Kiowas and Apaches were 
rich in horses and mules. They stole many 
in old Mexico and traded off the wild ones 
very cheap. Bent & Company employed many 
Mexicans to break these wild animals, after 
which the latter were sold to the whites." 

The noted plainsman and Indian trader. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 175 

John Smith, told George Bent that together 
with five or six companions he made his es- 
cape from old Adobe Walls, after it had 
been attacked by Gomanches and Kiowas. 

Even though it be true that old Adobe 
Walls was established by JMajor William 
Bent and his associates, a tradition remains 
that they merely seized upon a site that had 
been occupied at an even earlier day by men 
of whom nothing is known, save that they are 
believed to have come from the Spanish set- 
tlements in New Mexico. There are tradi- 
tions of buried treasure at Adobe Walls, and 
strangers have appeared there in search of it. 
One of these treasure-hunters was an old 
gray-haired man who came after the coun- 
try had been settled. His story was that a 
pack train loaded with gold and silver bul- 
lion had been attacked at this place by In- 
dians. In its extremity, the beseiged party 
buried the bullion. Only one or two mem- 
bers of the expedition escaped massacre, 
among the slain being a Gatholic priest. 

The old man in search of the treasure 
was too feeble to do the physical work of 
digging, and tried to hire men to work for 
him. He was looked upon as slightly de- 
mented, and could get no assistance. He de- 
parted without finding the buried fortune. 



176 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

Subsequently, his story was revived, and men 
living in the locality made numerous excava- 
tions, but found nothing. 

The day after we camped on Bent Creek, 
several of the boys rode northeast, to look 
over the country. Upon their return, they 
reported that there was an excellent site for 
a permanent camp on the next creek, about 
a mile and a half further on, so we pulled 
up the valley and began unloading our wag- 
ons on the bare ground in a broad valley 
where there was a pretty stream called East 
Adobe Walls Creek. This was to become a 
spot memorable to all of us. 

Myers & Leonard built a picket house 
twenty by sixty feet in size. James Hanra- 
han put up a sod house, twenty-five by sixty, 
in which he opened a saloon. Thomas 
O'Keefe built a blacksmith's shop of pickets, 
fifteen feet square. Thus, a little town was 
sprouting in the wilderness — a place where 
we could buy something to eat and wear^ 
something to drink, ammunition for our 
guns, and a place where our wagons, so 
necessary in expeditions like ours, could be 
repaired. 

While all this hammering and pounding 
and digging was going on, I started with three 
companions and rode the country as far down 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 177 

as where the present town of Clarendon, 
Texas, now stands. We were absent about 
fifteen days, and upon our return we found 
the buildings about finished. We did not 
see many buffaloes on this trip. Maybe the 
buffaloes had scented Indians. We ranged as 
far east as Cantonement Creek, and on its 
east prong encountered a few scattering 
bulls. The season was too early for the 
cows and bulls to begin mating and running 
together. 

On Cantonement Creek we stopped at 
some seeping springs. A lone cottonwood 
stood tall and gaunt among a few hackberries. 
I cut my name on this lone tree. One 
of the men who was with me at that time 
was a Frenchman, for whom we had no 
other name than "Frenchy," just as we 
had single names for many other men in 
the Plains country. He was an excellent 
cook, and I always thought he could broil 
buffalo steak better than any other man I 
ever saw. 

In returning to camp, we crossed Red 
Deer about where Miami, Texas, now is, and 
camped at some water-holes. Heading north- 
ward we soon struck the brakes of Talla- 
hone, and followed the Tallahone down to 
its mouth. This was a timbered creek with 

12D 



178 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

an abundance of running water. Perch and 
catfish were so plentiful that enough to feed 
the whole camp could be caught in a few 
minutes. Deer and wild turkeys were in 
sight all along Tallahone, and there were 
numerous signs of beaver and otter. 

Here we crossed the Canadian at what 
for many years was the main crossing in 
this part of the country, and followed along 
the north side of the river to Adobe Walls. 

During our absence from camp, Wright 
& Langton came down from Dodge City with 
another outfit and built a sod house sixteen 
by twenty feet. This firm bought buffalo 
hides and was engaged in general merchan- 
dising. The business was in charge of James 
Langton. 

The buildings were finished as rapidly 
as possible, and every man at Adobe Walls 
who could be induced to engage in this kind 
of manual labor was given a job and paid 
well for his services. Each building had a 
big Cottonwood ridge log, paralleled with 
smaller poles running down the roof. The 
poles were covered with dirt and sod. For 
safety and convenience in handling their 
stock, Myers & Leonard built a stockade cor- 
ral. This inclosure was made by setting big 
Cottonwood logs in the ground. The logs 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 179 

were hauled across the Canadian, from Rey- 
nolds Creek, a distance of about six miles, and 
was a laborious undertaking. 

I had no liking for the monotony and 
restraint of camp life and was impatient to 
be about my own business, which was to find 
a good buffalo range and begin hunting. 
After remaining in camp two days, we sad- 
dled and mounted again, to go up the Can- 
adian as far west as Hill's Creek. We crossed 
the river and followed the old Fort Bascom 
trail to Antelope Creek, where we crossed 
over to the Arroya Bonita, on which the LX 
Ranch afterwards established headquarters. 
The Arroya Bonita is one of the prettiest 
streams in the Panhandle country, with a 
good flow of water and lots of timber. 

Here I struck the trail I had made dur- 
ing the previous winter, and which I now 
followed back across the Canadian and thence 
north to Grapevine Creek, where I camped 
two or three days. This was at the edge of 
the Plains. At intervals we struck small 
bands of bulls as we did all the way. Buffa- 
loes were surprisingly scarce. Sometimes we 
killed them, and at other times did not mo- 
lest them. Generally, there were from four 
to ten in a bunch. The scarcity of buffaloes 
rather discouraged us, and we redoubled our 



180 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

efforts to locate a big herd. We held to the 
east, keeping along the edge of the Plains 
and coming down to the Canadian between 
Bugbee Canyon and Big Creek. Bugbee Can- 
yon received its name from the fact that 
Thomas Bugbee settled there in 1876. His 
was one of the first cow ranches established 
in the Panhandle of Texas. Charles Good- 
night, whom I met first in the fall of 1875, 
brought his cattle that year from Colorado to 
Palo Duro Canyon. Mrs. Goodnight joined 
her husband in 1876. 

We were in the Bugbee Canyon country 
in May, 1874. The season was delightful. 
The air was fresh and invigorating, the grass 
was green, flowers were blooming, the sky 
was clear, the sunshine pleasant, and a feel- 
ing of joy and happiness everywhere. Those 
were splendid nights, out there under the 
stars. The mornings came with dazzling 
splendor. At this season sunrise on the 
Plains presented a scene of magnificence. I 
always had the feeling that it came with a 
thunderous sound. 

When we struck Big Creek I noticed a 
patch of lamb's quarter (wild greens), and I 
told the boys we would go into camp and 
cook a pot of green, which we did. We ate 
greens to our hearts' content. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 181 

Searching out every point in the coun- 
try, next day we followed an old trail down 
to the Canadian valley, striking it at a high 
point, afterwards known as Dixon's Point, 
on account of its being opposite Dixon's 
Creek. We soon reached Adobe Walls. 

All the buildings had been finished, and 
everybody was doing a good business. Quite 
a number of hunters had come down from 
the north, and a plain trail had been opened 
between Adobe Walls and Dodge City, a 
hundred and fifty miles away. Freight out- 
fits were making regular trips between the 
two places. 

All of us hunters acquainted with the 
habits of the buffalo knew that the herds 
would soon be coming north from the Staked 
Plains region where they had spent the win- 
ter. The spring had been unusually late, 
which held back the buffaloes in their mi- 
gration. There was nothing for us to do but 
wait until the buffaloes were moved by that 
strange impulse that twice annually caused 
them to change their home and blacken the 
Plains with their countless, moving forms. 
We could lie around camp or vary the mon- 
otony by going to Adobe Walls and joining 
in the fun that was rampant at that place. 
Our amusements were mostly card-playing. 



182 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

imnning horse-races, drinking whisky and 
shooting at targets, the latter to improve our 
marksmanship. 

All this soon got old to me, and about 
the last of May I pulled out again. Grossing 
the Canadian at the mouth of White Deer 
Creek, I followed the latter to its head and 
went out on the Plains, keeping along their 
edge until I came to Dixon Creek. Here I 
found an ideal camping place, with plenty 
of wood, grass and water. I decided to 
build our permanent camp, and was soon in- 
dustriously at work. I knew by the signs 
that buffaloes had been through here, and it 
was certain that they would soon be comings 
back. 

I had two men with me, "Frenchy," whom 
I employed as a skinner, and Charley Armi- 
tage, an agreeable fellow who had come from 
England. Those Englishmen certainly loved 
the life of the frontier. 

We had been here two or three days, 
when the expected happened. Getting up 
one morning earlier than my companions, I 
chunked the fire for breakfast, and stood 
waiting for it to begin blazing. Then a fam- 
iliar sound come rolling toward me from 
the Plains — a sound deep and moving, not 
unlike the rumbling of a distant train pass- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 183 

ing over a bridge. In an instant I knew 
what was at hand. I had often heard it. I 
had been listening for it for days, even 
weeks. 

Walking out on a high point near camp, 
I gazed eagerly toward the horizon. I could 
see nothing save the vast undulating land- 
scape. My ears, however, had revealed to me 
what my eyes could not see. The buffaloes 
were coming! 

Hurrying back to camp, I shouted the 
good news to Armitage and "Frenchy," rous- 
ing them from their sleep and telling them 
to hurry breakfast. They lost no time in 
making coffee, frying meat and browning a 
cake of bread. I saddled my horse by the 
time breakfast was ready, and after eating 
hurriedly I sprang into my saddle and went 
south at a gallop. 

After I had ridden about five miles, I 
began striking small bunches of buffalo bulls, 
all headed north and all moving. A further 
ride of eight miles carried me out on the 
Plains. My muscles hardened and grew warm 
at the sight. As far as the eye could reach, 
south, east and west of me there was a solid 
mass of buffaloes — thousands upon thousands 
of them — slowly moving toward the north. 

The noise I had heard at early day- 



184 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

break was the bellowing of the bulls. At 
this time of year — the breeding season — the 
bellowing of the countless bulls was continu- 
ous, a deep, steady roar, that seemed to 
reach to the clouds. It was kept up night 
and day, but seemed to be deepest and plain- 
est at early morning. 

I was happy beyond measure, and turned 
my horse toward camp, hastening at full speed 
to let my men know what I had found. Al- 
ready, the buffaloes were approaching the 
vicinity of my camp, and in sight of it I 
shot thirty-five or forty, all bulls; the boys 
were soon busily at work with their skinning 
knives. By night buffaloes were passing with- 
in gunshot of our camp. 

Business had now begun in earnest, and 
we would soon be enjoying a steady income, 
to offset our winter's expenses. Where buf- 
faloes were as plentiful as they were here I 
could easily kill enough in a day to keep ten 
skinners busily at work. I killed enough next 
day to keep "Frenchy" and Armitage employed 
for several days, and went down to Adobe 
Walls in a light wagon, to see if I could 
hire more skinners. I found one man who 
would go with me, but for only a few days, 
until his partner should return with a load 
of hides. All the other hunters had heard 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 185 

the good news, and had pulled out for the 
buffalo range. Adobe Walls was deserted, 
save for the merchants and their clerks. By 
offering this man twenty-five cents a hide 
for skinning, I induced him to go with me 
for a week or ten days. 

On my way I had undertaken to pick out 
the most direct route from my conip to 
Adobe Walls. Keeping on the divide between 
Dixon Creek and Short Creek, I came to a 
stretch of very rough country late in the 
evening, and finally reached a place where 
it was impossible to travel further in a 
wagon. As darkness was falling, I unhooked 
my mules, Tobe and Joe, and jumped astride 
old Tobe, followed some buffalo trails down 
to Dixon Creek, near its mouth where grass 
and water were abundant. 

As this particular locality was new to me 
and darkness at hand, I decided that I 
would camp there for the night. Picketing 
one of the mules, I turned the other one 
loose. With a single blanket for my bed 
and my coat for a pillow, I lay down for the 
night, and was soon sound asleep. 

No mercy was shown the buffaloes when 
I got back to camp from Adobe Walls. I 
killed as many as my three men could han- 
dle, working them as hard as they were will- 



186 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

ing to work. This was deadly business, with- 
out sentiment; it was dollars against tender- 
heartedness, and dollars won. 

When the man I had hired at Adobe 
Walls had worked his full time, I hitched 
up and started back with him. When we 
reached the Canadian we found her with 
her back up, smashing and banging things 
from side to side — so deep and swollen that 
it would have been the height of foolishness 
to attempt a crossing. We went on to White 
Deer Creek, hoping to find a wider crossing, 
and by reason of it a shallower bottom. 

I waded the river in my search for a 
good footing, and decided finally that we 
could cross by swimming the mules fifty or 
sixty yards. It was our purpose to unhitch 
the mules and leave the wagon on the south 
side of the river until the water had run 
down. 

Our plans were quickly changed. At that 
moment two men from Adobe Walls rode up 
and told us that two hunters had been killed 
by Indians twenty-five miles down the river, 
on Chicken Creek, several days past. Our 
informants were greatly excited, and were 
hurrying back to their camp at the head of 
White Deer, 

If the Indians were on the warpath, we 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 187 

knew it would be foolish to leave our wagon, 
as they would destroy it beyond doubt, so 
we decided to risk trying to take it across 
the river regardless of the wide stretch of 
rolling water. 

While men experienced in the trials of 
travel in the wilderness may grow indifferent 
to danger, yet they never quite forget that 
danger exists. This is especially true in 
crossing such streams as the South Canadian 
and the Cimarron. These streams make the 
odds in their own way and in their own 
favor. The man that ventures into them 
must rely solely upon his own nerve, strength 
and horse sense. 

Choosing a point on the opposite side of 
the river where we wished to land, we drove 
in, hoping for the best. In a moment the 
swift current caught us, and both mules were 
swimming. In water a mule has less sense 
than a horse, and the ginger is soon knocked 
out of him if he gets his ears full of water. 
Having smaller feet, the mule cannot equal 
a horse in traversing quicksand. 

After the mules had taken a few plunges, 
the current caught up our wagon and whirled 
it over and over like a top. When I saw 
that the mules would have to swim for it, I 
sprang into the water to help the friglitened 



188 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

animals, getting on their upper side and seiz- 
ing the mule nearest me hy his bridle. In 
this way I was able to keep his head above 
water. The other mule, terrified by its sur- 
roundings, alternately rose and sank. We 
saw that if the wagon kept turning over, the 
team might get drowned, so we cut the har- 
ness, and after the greatest exertion got the 
mules ashore. The near mule lay down on 
the sand and died without a struggle. It 
seemed ridiculous that the mule should suc- 
cumb after being taken from the water, yet 
there he lay. Old Tobe was saved. The 
wagon drifted down stream about sixty yards 
and lodged against the bank. We pulled it 
out of the river next day. Our greatest mis- 
fortune was the loss of our guns. 

When we lined up on the north side of 
the river we were a sorry lot — two bedraggled, 
unarmed men and a water-logged mule three 
miles from Adobe Walls, in danger of at- 
tack by Indians at any moment. Ordinarily, 
I was not easily discouraged. This, however, 
was a jolt from the shoulder. I stood in 
greatest need of my gun, a big "50." We 
could dig out the wagon, but not the guns, 
and somewhere in the depths of the Cana- 
dian they are rusting this very day. 

We were a sorrowful pair as we started 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 189 

up the valley for Adobe Walls, leading old 
Tobe and leaving old Joe to bleach on the 
Canadian sands. Unwilling to let the other 
walk, neither of us would ride. I had lost 
my hat in the river, and my clothing was 
plastered with mud and sand. 

Upon coming in sight of Adobe Walls, we 
were quickly discovered, and our disordered 
appearance convinced the men that we had 
been attacked by Indians — possibly we were 
the only survivors of a desperate encounter. 
We found Adobe Walls buzzing with talk 
about Indians. The particulars of the killing 
of the men on Chicken Creek were now 
learned. Their names were Dudley and Wal- 
lace. They were camped on the south side of 
the creek near where the Ledrick brothers 
now have a ranch. Dudley, Wallace and 
Joe Plummer were hunting together from 
this camp. Plummer went to Adobe Walls 
for supplies. Upon his return he was horri- 
fied to find the dead bodies of his two com- 
panions. Through the breast of one had 
been driven a heavy wooden stake, pinning 
him to the ground. Both were scalped, and 
otherwise mutilated in a shocking manner. 

Looking away from his camp, Plummer 
said he saw objects at a distance which he 
felt sure were Indians. Realizing that the 



190 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

next thing for him to do was to try to save 
his life, he cut the harness from one of his 
horses, mounted and dashed away toward 
Adobe Walls. 

The news he brought caused much excite- 
ment, as these were the first men that had 
been killed since the building of Adobe Walls. 
When Plummer reached the Walls there were 
only a few men there, but he managed to get 
two buffalo-hunters to go back with him to 
bury the dead. A party of fifteen surveyors, 
employed by the State of Texas, and in 
charge of a man named Maddox, had just 
arrived in that section. I am told that this 
was the first surveying ever done in the Pan- 
handle, and that the Maddox survey still holds 
good. The surveyors' camp was on Johns' 
Creek. Plummer had halted there on his way 
to Adobe Walls, to warn the men against the 
Indians. When Plummer returned, the mem- 
bers of the surveying party joined him to 
help bury the dead. No further indignities 
had been offered the bodies, which were 
buried on the spot. The horses, still in 
their harness were found grazing in the val- 
ley. Plummer gathered up the outfit and 
w^ent to Adobe Walls — the surveyors kept go- 
ing straight south, fully satisfied that soldiers, 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 191 

not surveyors, were what the country most 
needed. 

Hearing all this, I was impatient to re- 
turn to my own camp as quickly as possible, 
but was detained by the necessity of buying a 
mate for my mule, which was beset with 
difficulties. Finally, I managed to buy a horse. 
My next obstacle to overcome was to replace 
the gun I had lost in the Canadian. The best 
I was able to do was to buy what was called 
a round-barrel Sharp's. I had left camp in 
such a hurry that I failed to take my six- 
shooter, an oversight of which I was rarely 
guilty in those days. I had been absent three 
days when I got back to my camp. 

The evening before I left Adobe Walls, 
another hunter came in with Indian news. 
His name was Moore. He said that two days 
previously two men had been killed by In- 
dians in his camp on a tributaary of Salt 
Fork of Red River, north of where Claren- 
don, Texas, is now situated. The names of 
the dead men were John Jones, nicknamed 
"Cheyenne Jack," a young Englishman, and 
"Blue Billy," a German. The camp was de- 
stroyed and all the stock run off. 

"Cheyenne Jack" belonged to an influ- 
ential family in England. His relatives, sev- 
eral years later, made inquiry through the 



192 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

British diplomatic service, in communication 
to the commanding officer at Fort Elliott, Tex- 
as, as to the whereabouts of the unfortuniate 
man's remains. I was directed to tind where 
the body had been buried. It was a week 
after Moore reported these murders before a 
party went from Adobe Walls to bury the 
dead men. Jones and his companion had 
fallen in the bed of a creek in a grove of 
timber, right in camp. While Moore was 
absent, a flood came down the creek and car- 
ried the bodies and the whole camp away. 
The bodies could not be found. 

Before leaving the Walls to go to my 
camp, I got "Brick" Bond, now living at 
Dodge City, Kansas, to accompany me. I was 
fearful that the Indians had attacked my 
camp and possibly killed Albright and 
"Frenchy." Happily, I found them alive and 
ignorant of what had been going on in the 
country south of the Walls. 

All of us agreed that a blind man could 
see that it was entirely too risky to stay in 
camp with Indians all around us, so we lost 
no time in loading our outfit and pulling into 
Adobe Walls, arriving there by noon the next 
day. The story of the Indian depredations 
had spread to all the hunting camps, and by 
the time we reached the Walls a large crowd 



Adobe Walls. Texas Panhandle 193 

had gathered in from the surrounding coun- 
try. We remained here for about a week. 

An odd thing about this Indian excite- 
ment was that none of the hunters had seen 
an Indian nor a sign of one. The Indians 
evidently had carefully picked their time, 
watching closely and waiting until only two 
or three men were in camp, whereupon they 
attacked and then slipped stealthily away. 
All of us felt that these murders had been 
perpetrated as a warning to the buffalo- 
hunters to leave the country — to go north of 
the "dead hue." 

Every man of us was dead set against 
abandoning the butialo range. The herds 
were now at hand, and we were in a fair way 
to make a pile of money. Furthermore, the 
buffaloes were becoming scarcer and scarcer 
each year, and it was expedient that we make 
hay while the sun shone, for soon the sun 
would be no longer shining in the buffalo 
business. Its night was close at hand. We 
decided that the best and safest plan would 
be for three or four outfits to throw in to- 
gether and all occupy the same camp. After 
all, it was not unusual to hear of two or 
three buffalo-hunters being killed and scalped 
every year, and perhaps there would be no 
further outbreaks by the Indians. It was 

13D 



194 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

agreed, however, that everybody should be 
very careful and take every precaution 
against surprise and attack. 

When we started back to the range, most 
of us went west and north of the Walls, as 
the Indians were supposed to be camped on 
the headwaters of the Washita and the Sweet- 
water, south of us, their main summer camp 
grounds. But I was so in love with my lo- 
cation on Dixon Creek, southwest of the 
Walls, that I resolved to take the risk and 
establish myself at that point, and went there 
with three skinners I had hired. 

We had left a lot of hides at this camp, 
and began hauling them to Adobe Walls, 
which took several days. I felt uneasy all 
the time. Something seemed to be wrong. 
There was Indian in the air, and I could not 
shake myself loose from thinking about the 
possible danger, so I told my men that it 
might be well for us to get over on the 
north side of the Canadian. We broke camp 
and went to Adobe Walls, to increase our 
stock of supplies for a stay near the head of 
Moore's Creek. 

We were buying supplies to last us two 
months, and were ready to start next day. 
Late in the evening James Hanrahan came to 
me and said: 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 195 

"Billy, where are you going?" 

"Northwest," I answered. 

Hanrahan then asked me how it would 
suit me for the two of us to throw in to- 
gether. He said he had been having trouble 
in getting a man who could hunt fast enough 
to keep his skinners busy. Hanrahan owned 
a big outfit, and usually had seven skinners. 
I told him that nothing would please me 
more than to go into partnership with him, 
and that I could easily kill enough buifaloes 
to keep twenty skinners hard at work every 
day. Hanrahan offered to give me half of 
all the profits, which was as liberal as any 
man could wish for. 

Our wagons were all assembled and load- 
ed, in readiness for us to pull out next morn- 
ing, June 27, 1874. 

It might be well to describe the exact 
location of the buildings and the nature of 
their surroundings. All the buildings at 
Adobe Walls faced to the east, the main 
ones standing in a row. On the south was 
the store of Rath & Wright, with a great pile 
of buffalo hides at the rear. Then came 
Hanrahan's saloon, and fifty yards or so 
north of the latter was the store of Leonard 
& Myers, the building forming the northeast 
corner of the big picket stockade. In the 



196 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

soiithwcst corner of the stockade was a mess 
house, and between the mess house and the 
store was a well. The blacksmith's shop was 
located just north of Hanrahan's saloon. 

The adobe walls of the main buildings 
were about two feet thick. The door of Rath 
& Wright's store opened to the west, while 
that of Leonard & Myers looked to the east. 

Benfs Creek, west of the Walls, flowed 
from the northwest in a southeasterly direc- 
tion to the Canadian, passing close to the 
ruins of old Adobe Walls, about a mile and 
a quarter south of the new Adobe Walls. On 
the north side of Bent's Creek, southwest of 
the buildings, was a hill, north of which the 
land was smoother and afterwards a part of 
the Turkey Track Ranch pasture. 

East of Adobe Walls lay the open valley 
of Adobe Walls Creek, terminating in a 
growth of wdllows, cottonwoods, hackberry, 
chinaberry, and stunted elms that fringed 
this stream, on the other side of which, at a 
distance of about twelve hundred yards from 
Leonard & Myer's store stood a butte-like 
hill of considerable height, with a more or 
less level bench near the summit, caused by 
the sliding and falling of debris from the 
crest. Several hundred yards southeast were 
the low sandhills of the Canadian, whose wide 



Adobe Walls, Ti:xas Paniiandll 197 

expanse of level sand was more than a mile 
away. 

The season had advanced so slowly, and 
the huflaloos had heen so Umg coming norlh, 
that we had done comparatively litlle luml- 
ing, and all of ns were impatient to he np 
and gone. O'Keele was doing a hig l)nsiness 
at his hlacksmitlfs shop, pounding away hour 
after hour, repairing the wagons on which 
the huHalo hides were to he hauled from the 
hunting grounds to the traders at Adol)e 
Walls. My wagon was in front of the shop, 
O'Keefe having iinished repairing it. 

I had heen unahle to replace my l)ig "r)()," 
lost in the Canadian, with a gun that suited 
me in every way, hut it was highly import- 
ant that 1 should he well-armed it' I expected 
to fulfill my promises to HanrahaiL 

The only gun at the Walls that was not 
in use was a new *'44" Sharp's, which was 
next hest to a "50." This gun had l)een sj)ok- 
en for by a hunter who was still out in camp; 
he was to pay ^1^80 for it, huying it from 
Langton who was in charge of Rath & 
Wright's store. Langton told me that if nec- 
essary he would let me have the gun, as he 
had ordered a case of guns and was ex- 
pecting them to arrive any day on the freight 
train from Dodge City, and he prohahly would 



198 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

have them in stock before the owner of the 
gun came in from the buffalo range. News 
came in that night, the evening of June 26, 
1874, that the freight wagons were camped 
on the flats north of the Walls and, of 
course, would show up in a day or two. 
Langton also heard that the man to whom 
he had promised the gun was not coming 
for several days, so he hunted me up and 
told me I might have the gun. 

I went right over to his store and got 
the "44," together with a full case of am- 
munition. I was so tickled over my good 
luck, that I took the gun over to Hanrahan's 
saloon, to show it to him. After we had 
looked the gun over, I set it down in the 
corner for the night, intending to get it when 
we said good bye to the Walls next morning, 
headed for our camp on the buffalo range. 
For some reason which I can not explain, 
even to myself, I left the case of ammunition 
with Langton, little dreaming how greatly I 
would regret my carelessness. 

By this time the excitement and talk 
about the fate of the four men w^ho had 
been killed by Indians had subsided, and we 
paid no further attention to the matter, so 
busily were we engaged in our preparations 
for departure. Several hunters had come in 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 199 

that day, and we planned to stay up late that 
night, celebrating our return to the range, 
telling stories of past experiences and joking 
about how much money we would have when 
the hunt was over. 

The night was sultry and we sat with 
open doors. In all that vast wilderness, ours 
were the only lights save the stars that glit- 
tered above us. There was just a handful of 
us out there on the Plains, each bound to the 
other by the common tie of standing together 
in the face of any danger that threatened us. 
It was a simple code, but about the best I 
know of. Outside could be heard at intervals 
the muffled sounds of the stock moving 
and stumbling around, or a picketed horse 
shaking himself as he paused in his hunt 
for the young grass. In the timber along 
Adobe Walls Creek to the east owls were 
hooting. We paid no attention to these 
things, however, and in our fancied se- 
curity against all foes frolicked and had 
a general good time. Hanrahan did a 
thriving trade. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

ON that memorable night, June 26, 1874, 
there were 28 men and one woman at the 
Walls. The woman was the wife of William 
Olds. She had come from Dodge City with 
her husband to open a restaurant in the rear 
of Rath & Wright's store. Only eight or nine 
of the men lived at the Walls, the others be- 
ing buffalo-hunters who by chance happened 
to be there. There was not the slightest feel- 
ing of impending danger. 

As was the custom in the buffalo coun- 
try, most of the men made their beds outside 
on the ground. I spread my blankets near 
the blacksmith's shop, close to my wagon. 
I placed my gun by my side between my 
blankets, as usual, to protect it from dew and 
rain. A man's gun and his horse were his 
two most valuable possessions, next to life, 
in that country in those days. 

Every door was left wide open, such a 
thing as locking a door being unheard of at 
the Walls. One by one the lights were turned 
out, the tired buffalo-hunters fell asleep, and 
the Walls were soon wrapped in the stillness 
of night. 

Late that evening I had gone down on 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 201 

the creek and caught my saddle horse — a 
better one could not be found — and tied him 
with a long picket rope to a stake pin near 
my wagon. 

About 2 o'clock in the morning Shepherd 
and Mike Welch, who were sleeping in Han- 
rahan's saloon, were awakened by a report 
that sounded like the crack of a rifle. They 
sprang up and discovered that the noise was 
caused by the big cottonwood ridge pole. 

This ridge pole sustained the weight of 
the dirt roof, and if the pole should break 
the roof would collapse and fall in, to the 
injury or death of those inside. Welch and 
Shepherd woke up a number of their com- 
panions to help them repair the roof. Some 
climbed on top and began throwing off the 
dirt, while others went down to the creek to 
cut a prop for the ridge pole. 

This commotion woke up others, and in a 
little while about fifteen men were helping 
repair the roof. Providential things usually 
are mysterious; there has always been some- 
thing mysterious to me in the loud report 
that came from that ridge pole in Hanra- 
han's saloon. It seems strange that it should 
have happened at the very time it did, in- 
stead of at noon or some other hour, and, 
above all, that it should have been loud 




Chief Quanah Parker of the Comanches. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 203 

enough to wake men who were fast asleep. 
Twenty-eight men and one woman would 
have been slaughtered if the ridge pole in 
Hanrahan's saloon had not cracked like a 
rifle shot. 

By the time we had put the prop in 
place, the sky was growing red in the east, 
and Hanrahan asked me if I did not think we 
might as well stay up and get an early start. 
I agreed, and he sent Billy Ogg down on 
the creek to get the horses. Some of the 
men, however, crawled back into bed. The 
horses were grazing southeast of the build- 
ings, along Adobe Walls Creek, a quarter of 
a mile off. 

Turning to my bed, I rolled it up and 
threw it on the front of my wagon. As I 
turned to pick up my gun, which lay on the 
ground, I looked in the direction of our 
horses. They were in sight. Something else 
caught my eye. Just beyond the horses, at 
the edge of some timber, was a large body of 
objects advancing vaguely in the dusky dawn 
toward our stock and in the direction of 
Adobe Walls. Though keen of vision, I could 
not make out what the objects were, even by 
straining my eyes. 

Then I was thunderstruck. The black 
body of moving object suddenly spread out 



204 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

like a fan, and from it went up one single, 
solid yell — a warwhoop that seemed to shake 
the very air of the early morning. Then 
came^ the thudding roar of running horses, 
and the hideous cries of the individual war- 
riors, each embarked in the onslaught. I 
could see that hundreds of Indians were com- 
ing. Had it not been for the ridge pole, all 
of us would have been asleep. 

In such desperate emergencies, men exert 
themselves almost automatically to do the 
needful thing. There is no time to make 
conscious effort, and if a man lose his head, 
he shakes hands with death. 

I made a dash for my saddle horse, my 
first thought being to save him. I never 
thought for an instant that the oncoming 
Indians were intending an attack upon the 
buildings, their purpose being, as I thought, 
to run off our stock, which they could easily 
have done by driving it ahead of them. I 
overlooked the number of Indians, however, 
or else I might have formed a different opin- 
ion. 

The first mighty warwhoop had frightened 
my horse until he was frantic. He was run- 
ning and lunging on his rope so violently 
that in one more run he would have pulled 
up the stake pin and gone to the land of 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 205 

stampeded horses. I managed to grab the 
rope, and tie my horse to my wagon. 

I then rushed for my gun, and turned to 
get a few good shots before the Indians could 
turn to run away. I started to run forward 
a few steps. Indians running away! They 
were coming as straight as a bullet toward 
the buildings, whipping their horses at every 
jump. 

There was never a more splendidly bar- 
baric sight. In after years I was glad that I 
had seen it. Hundreds of warriors, the flower 
of the fighting men of the southwestern Plains 
tribes, mounted upon their finest horses, 
armed with guns and lances, and carrying 
heavy shields of thick buffalo hide, were com- 
ing like the wind. Over all was splashed the 
rich colors of red, vermillion and ochre, on 
the bodies of the men, on the bodies of the 
running horses. Scalps dangled from bridles, 
gorgeous war-bonnets fluttered their plumes, 
bright feathers dangled from the tails and 
manes of the horses, and the bronzed, half- 
naked bodies of the riders glittered with or- 
naments of silver and brass. Behind this head- 
long charging host stretched the Plains, on 
whose horizon the rising sun was lifting its 
morning fires. The warriors seemed to 
emerge from this glowing background. 



206 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

I must confess, however, that the land- 
scape possessed little interest for me when I 
saw that the Indians were coming to attack 
us, and that they would be at hand in a 
few moments. War-whooping had a very ap- 
preciable effect upon the roots of a man's 
hair. 

I fired one shot, but had no desire to 
wait and see where the bullet went. I turned 
and ran as quickly as possible to the near- 
est building, which happened to be Hanraran's 
saloon. I found it closed. I certainly felt 
lonesome. The alarm had spread and the 
boys were preparing to defend themselves. 
I shouted to them to let me in. An age 
seemed to pass before they opened the door 
and I sprang inside. Bullets were whist- 
ling and knocking up the dust all around 
me. Just as the door was opened for me, 
Billy Ogg ran up and fell inside, so ex- 
hausted that he could no longer stand. I 
am confident that if Billy had been timed, 
his would have been forever the world's 
record. Billy had made a desperate race, 
and that he should escape seemed incred- 
ible. 

We were scarcely inside before the In- 
dians had surrounded all the buildings and 
shot out every window pane. When our men 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 207 

saw the Indians coming, they broke for the 
nearest building at hand, and in this way 
split up into three parties. They were gath- 
ered in the different buildings, as follows: 

Hanrahan's Saloon — James Hanrahan, "Bat" 
Masterson, Mike Welch, Shepherd, Hiram 
Watson, Billy Ogg, James McKinley, ''Ber- 
muda" Carlisle, and William Dixon. 

Myers & Leonard's Store — Fred Leonard, 
James Campbell, Edward Trevor, Frank 
Brown, Harry Armitage, "Dutch Henry," Bil- 
ly Tyler, Old Man Keeler, Mike McCabe, Henry 
Lease, and "Frenchy." 

Rath & Wright's Store— James Longton, 
George Eddy, Thomas O'Keefe, William Olds 
and his wife; Sam Smith, and Andy John- 
son. 

Some of the men were still undressed, 
but nobody wasted any time hunting their 
clothes, and many of them fought for their 
lives all that summer day barefoot and in 
their night clothes. 

The men in Hanrahan's saloon had a 
little the best of the others because of the 
fact that they were awake and up when the 
alarm was given. In the other buildings 
some of the boys were sound asleep and it 
took time for them to barricade the doors 
and windows before they began fighting. 



208 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

Barricades were built by piling up sacks of 
flour and grain, at which some of the men 
worked while others seized their guns and 
began shooting at the Indians. 

The number of Indians in this attack has 
been variously estimated at from 700 to 1,000. 
I believe that 700 would be a safe guess. 
The warriors were mostly Kiowas, Chey- 
ennes and Comanches. The latter were led 
by their chief Quanah, whose mother was a 
white woman, Cynthia Ann Parker, captured 
during a raid by the Comanches in Texas, 
Big Bow was another formidable Comanche 
chieftain; Lone Wolf was a leader of the 
Kiowas, and Little Robe and White Shield, 
of the Cheyennes. 

For the first half hour the Indians were 
reckless and daring enough to ride up and 
strike the doors with the butts of their guns. 
Finally, the buffalo-hunters all got straight- 
ened out and were firing with deadly effect. 
The Indians stood up against this for awhile, 
but gradually began falling back, as we 
were emptying buckskin saddles entirely too 
fast for Indian safety. Our guns had longer 
range than theirs. Furthermore, the hostiles 
were having little success — they had killed 
only two of our men, the Shadier brothers 
who were caught asleep in their wagon. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 209 

Both were scalped. Their big Newfoundland 
dog, which always slept at their feet, evi- 
dently showed fight, as the Indians killed 
him, and "scalped" him by cutting a piece 
of hide off his side. The Indians ransacked! 
the wagon and took all the provisions. The 
Shadlers were freighters. 

At our first volleys, a good many of the 
Indians jumped off their horses and prepared 
for a fight on foot. They soon abandoned 
this plan; and for good reason. They were 
the targets of expert rough-and-ready marks- 
men, and for the Indians to stand in the open 
meant death. They fell back. 

The Indians exhibited one of their char- 
acteristic traits. Numbers of them fell, dead 
or wounded, close to the buildings. In al- 
most every instance a determined effort was 
made to rescue the bodies, at the imminent 
risk of the life of every warrior that at- 
tempted this feat in front of the booming 
buffalo-guns. An Indian in those days would 
quickly endanger his own life to carry a 
dead or helpless comrade beyond reach of 
the enemy. I have been told that their zeal 
was due to some religious belief concerning 
the scalp-lock — that if a warrior should lose 
his scalp-lock his spirit would fail to reach 
the happy hunting grounds. Perhaps far the 

14D 



210 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

same reason the Indian always tried to scalp 
his fallen enemy. 

Time and again, with the fury of a 
whirlwind, the Indians charged upon the 
building, only to sustain greater losses than 
they were able to inflict. This w^as a losing 
^ame, and if the Indians kept it up we stood 
a fair chance of killing most of them. I am 
sure that we surprised the Indians as badly 
as they surprised us. They expected to find 
us asleep, unprepared for an attack. Their 
"medicine" man had told them that all they 
would have to do would be to come to Adobe 
Walls and knock us on the head with sticks, 
and that our bullets would not be strong 
enough to break an Indian's skin. The old 
man was a bad prophet. 

Almost at the beginning of the attack, 
we were surprised at the sound of a bugle. 
This bugler was with the Indians, and could 
blow the different calls as cleverly as the 
bugler on the parade ground at Fort Dodge. 
The story was told that he w^as a negro de- 
serter from the Tenth Cavalry, which I never 
believed. It is more probable that he was a 
captive halfbreed Mexican that was known 
to be living among the Kiowas and Com- 
anches in the 60's. He had been captured 
in his boyhood when these Indians were 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 211 

raiding in the Rio Grande country, and grew 
up among them, as savage and cruel as any 
of their warriors. How he learned to blow 
the bugle is unknown. A frontiersman who 
went with an expedition to the Kiowas in 
1866 tells of having found a bugler among 
them at that time. The Kiowas, he said, 
were able to maneuver to the sound of the 
bugle. This bugler never approached the 
white men closely enough to be recognized. 

In the fight at Adobe Walls, the fact 
was discovered that the Indian warriors were 
charging to the sound of the bugle. In this 
they "tipped" their hand, for the calls were 
understood, and the buffalo-hunters were 
"loaded for bear" by the time the Indians 
were within range. "Bat" Masterson, recall- 
ing this incident long after the fight, said: 

"We had in the building I was in (Han- 
rahan's saloon), two men who had served in 
the United States army, and understood all 
the bugle calls. The first call blown was a 
rally, which our men instantly understood. 
The next was a charage, and that also was 
understood, and immediately the Indians 
come rushing forward to a fresh attack. 
Every bugle call he blew was understood by 
the ex-soldiers and were carried out to the 



212 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

letter by the Indians, showing that the bugler 
had the Indians thoroughly drilled. 

"The bugler was killed late in the after- 
noon of the first day's fighting as he was run- 
ning away from a wagon owned by the Shad- 
ier brothers, both of whom were killed in 
this same wagon. The bugler had his bugle 
wdth him at the time he was shot by Harry 
Armitage. Also he was carrying a tin can 
filled with sugar and another filled with 
ground coffee, one under each arm. Armit- 
age shot him through the back with a 50- 
caliber Sharp's rifle, as he was making his 
escape." 

Billy Tyler and Fred Leonard went into 
the stockade, but were compelled to retreat, 
the Indians firing at them through the open- 
ings between the stockade pickets. Just as 
Tyler was entering the door of the adobe 
store, he turned to fire, and was struck by 
a bullet that penetrated his lungs. He lived 
about half an hour after he was dragged 
into the store. 

The Indians were not without military 
tactics in trying to recover their dead and 
wounded. While one band would pour a 
hot fire into the buildings, other Indians on 
horseback would run forward under the pro- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 213 

tection of this fusilade. They succeeded in 
dragging away a good many of the fallen. 

Once during a charge I noticed an In- 
dian riding a white horse toward where an- 
other Indian had gone down in the tall 
grass. The latter jumped up behind the In- 
dian on the horse, and both started at full 
speed for safety. A rifle cracked and a bul- 
let struck the horse, breaking one of its hind 
legs. We could see the blood streaming 
down the horse's leg. Both Indians began 
whipping the poor brute and, lurching and 
staggering on three legs, he carried them 
away. 

By noon the Indians had ceased charg- 
ing, and had stationed themselves in groups 
in diiferent places, maintaining a more or 
less steady fire all day on the buildings. 
Sometimes the Indians would fire especially 
heavy volleys, whereupon wounded Indians 
would leap from the grass and run as far 
as they could and then drop down in the 
grass again. In this manner a number es- 
caped. 

Along about 10 o'clock, the Indians hav- 
ing fallen back at a safer distance from the 
buffalo-guns, some of us noticed a pony 
standing near the corner of a big stack of 
buffalo hides at the rear of Bath's building. 



214 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

We could see that an Indian behind the 
hides was holding the pony by the bridle, 
so we shot the pony and it fell dead. The 
pony was gaily decorated with red calico 
plaited in its mane. 

The falling of the pony left the Indian 
somewhat exposed to our fire, and the boys 
at Hanrahan's and Rath's opened upon him 
full blast. They certainly "fogged" him. No 
Indian ever danced a livelier jig. We kept 
him jumping like a flea back and forth be- 
hind the pile of hides, 

I had got possession of a big "50" gun 
early in the light, and was making consid- 
erable noise with it. I sized up what was 
going on behind the pile of buffalo hides, 
and took careful aim at the place where I 
thought the Indian was crouched. I shot 
through one corner of the hides. It looked 
to me as if that Indian jumped six feet 
straight up into the air, howling with pain. 
Evidently I had hit him. He ran zig-zag 
fashion for thirty or forty yards, howling at 
every jump, and dropped down in the tall 
grass. Indians commonly ran in this man- 
ner when under fire, to prevent our getting a 
bead on them. 

I managed to get hold of the "50" gun 
in this manner. The ammunition for mine 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 215 

was in Rath's store, which none of us was 
in the habit of visiting at that particular 
moment. I had noticed that Shepherd, Han- 
rahan's bartender, was banging around with 
Hanrahan's big "50," but not making much 
use of it, as he was badly excited. 

"Here, Jim," I said to Hanrahan, "I see 
you are without a gun; take this one." 

I gave him mine. I then told "Shep." to 
give me the "50." He was so glad to turn 
Iqose of it, and handed it to me so quickly 
that he almost dropped it. I had the repu- 
tation of being a good shot and it was rather 
to the interest of all of us that I should have 
a powerful gun. 

We had no way of telling what was 
happening to the men in the other buildings, 
and they were equally ignorant of what was 
happening to us. Not a man in our building 
had been hit: I could never see how we 
escaped, for at times the bullets poured in 
like hail and made us hug the sod walls like 
gophers when a hawk was swooping past. 

By this time there were a large num- 
ber of wounded horses standing near the 
buildings. A horse' gives up quickly when 
in pain, and these made no effort to get 
away. Even those that were at a consider- 
able distance from the buildings when they 



216 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

received their wounds came to us, as if seek- 
ing our help and sympathy. It was a pitiable 
sight, and touched our hearts, for the boys 
loved their horses. I noticed that horses that 
had been wounded while grazing in the val- 
ley also came to the buildings, where they 
stood helpless and bleeding or dropped down 
and died. 

We had been pouring a pile of bullets 
from our stronghold, and about noon were 
running short of ammunition. Hanrahan 
and I decided that it was time to replenish 
our supply, and that we would have to make 
a run for Rath's store, where there were 
thousands of rounds which had been brought 
from Dodge City for the buffalo-hunters. 

We peered cautiously outside to see if 
any Indians were ambushed where they could 
get a pot shot at us. The coast looked clear, 
so we crawled out of a window and hit the 
ground running, running like jack-rabbits, 
and made it to Rath's in the fastest kind of 
time. The Indians saw us, however, before 
the boys could open the door, and opened at 
long range. The door framed a good target. 
I have no idea how many guns were cracking 
away at us, but I do know that bullets rattled 
round us like hail. Providence seemed to 
be looking after the boys at Adobe Walls 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 217 

that day, and we got inside without a scratch, 
though badly winded. 

We found everybody at Rath's in good 
shape. We remained here some time. Nat- 
urally, Hanrahan wanted to return to his 
own building, and he proposed that we try 
to make our way back. There were fewer 
men at Rath's than at any other place, and 
their anxiety was increased by the presence 
of a woman, Mrs. Olds. If the latter fact 
should be learned by the Indians there was 
no telling what they might attempt, and a 
determined attack by the Indians would have 
meant death for everybody in the store, for 
none would have suffered themselves to be 
taken alive nor permitted Mrs. Olds to be 
captured. 

The boys begged me to stay with them. 
Hanrahan finally said that he was going back 
to his own place, telling me that I could do 
as I thought best. Putting most of his am- 
munition into a sack, we opened the door 
quickly for him, and away he went, doing 
his level best all the way to his saloon, which 
he reached without mishap. 



CHAPTER IX. 

IN the restaurant part of Rath's store, a 
transom had been cut over the west door; 
this transom was open, as no glass had even 
been put in. This door had been strongly 
barricaded with sacks of flour and grain, one 
of the best breastworks imaginable, the In- 
dians having no guns that could shoot 
through it. 

Climbing to the top of this barricade, to 
take a good look over the ground west of the 
building, I saw an object crawling along in 
the edge of the tall grass. Levelling my gun, 
and taking aim with my body resting on one 
knee, I fired. The recoil was so great that I 
lost my balance and tumbled backward froni 
the top of the barricade. As I went down I 
struck and dislodged a washtub and a bushel 
or two of cooking utensils which made a 
terrific crash as they struck the floor around 
me. I fell heavily myself, and the tumbling 
down of my big "50" did not lessen the up- 
roar. The commotion startled everybody. The 
boys rushed forward believing that I had 
been shot, even killed. I found it quite dif- 
ficult to convince them that I had not been 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 219 

shot, and that most of the noise had been 
caused by the tub and the tin pans. 

I was greatly interested in the object I 
had shot at, so I crawled up on the sacks 
again. By looking closely, I was able to see 
the object move. I now fired a second time, 
and was provoked at seeing the bullet kick 
up the dirt just beyond the object. I tried 
the third time and made a center shot. 

By 2 o'clock the Indians had fallen back 
to the foot of the hills and were firing only 
at intervals. They had divided their force, 
putting part on the west side and part on 
the east side of the buildings. Warriors 
were riding more or less constantly across 
the valley from one side to the other, which 
exposed them to our fire. So we began 
picking them off. They were soon riding in 
a much bigger circle, and out of range. 

This lull in the fighting was filled with 
a kind of disturbing uncertainty. Since early 
morning, we had been able to hold the enemy 
at bay. We were confident that we could 
continue to do so as long as we had ammu- 
nition. We thanked our stars that we were 
behind thick adobe walls, instead of thin pine 
boards. We could not have saved ourselves 
had the buildings been frame, such as were 
commonly built in frontier towns in those 



220 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

days. Still, there was no telling how des- 
perate the Indians might become, rather than 
abandon the fight; it was easily possible for 
them to overwhelm us with the brute force 
of superior numbers by pressing the attack 
until they had broken down the doors, and 
which probably would have been attempted, 
however great the individual sacrifice, had 
the enemy been white men. Luckily, it was 
impossible to set the adobes on fire, or else 
we should have been burned alive. 

Though we did not relax in watchful- 
ness when the Indians withdrew, yet we were 
able to throw off some of the high tension 
that had kept our nerves and muscles as 
taut as bowstrings since daybreak. A man's 
mouth gets dry and his saliva thick and 
sticky when he fights hour after hour, know- 
ing that if he goes down his death will be 
one of torture, unless he should be instantly 
killed. All forenoon the Indians had been 
descending upon us like a storm, taunting 
us in every imaginable way, even pounding 
upon the doors with their guns and lances, 
and vying with each other in feats of martial 
horsemanship. They had flaunted the bloody 
scalps of the poor Shadlers with devilish 
glee. Time and again, however, we had rip- 
ped into them with our guns and brought 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 221 

down horses and warriors until in many 
places the grass around Adobe Walls was 
wet with blood. 

About 4 o'clock in the afternoon a young 
fellow at Hanrahan's, "Bermuda" Carlisle, 
ventured out to pick up an Indian trinket 
which he could see from the window. As 
he was not shot at, he went out a second 
time, whereupon others began going out, all 
eager to find relics. For the first time, we 
now heard of the death of Billy Tyler at 
Leonard & Myer's. Tyler had been killed at 
the beginning of the fight, as had the Shad- 
lers. 

When I saw that it was possible to leave 
the buildings with reasonable safety, I de- 
termined to satisfy my curiosity about three 
things. 

An iron-gray horse had been standing 
for hours not far from the south window of 
Hanrahan's saloon. I could not understand 
what had held him so long, before he was 
finally shot by the Indians themselves. When I 
reached the carcass, the mystery was clear — 
there lay a dead warrior who had fallen in 
such a way as to make fast the rope that 
held the horse. The horse wore a silver- 
mounted bridle.. With a buffalo bone I pried 



222 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

open tthe stiffened jaws and removed the 
bridle, also taking the rawhide lariat. 

On one of the reins, about ten inches 
from the bit, was fastened a scalp, which 
evidently had been taken from the head of a 
white woman, the hair being dark brown in 
color and about fifteen inches in length. The 
scalp was lined with cloth and edged with 
beads. Several other scalps were found that 
day. One was on a war shield. 

My attention likewise had been attracted 
by an object at the rear of the little sod 
house west of Rath's store. We had fired 
at it over and over until we had cut a gap 
in the corner of the sod house. The object 
finally had disappeared from sight. For a 
considerable time we had seen feathers whip- 
ping round the corner in the wind, and had 
thought that probably three or four Indians 
were concealed there. Every time I had 
turned loose my big '50" I had torn out a 
chunk of sod. 

When I reached the sod house, I was 
startled at what I saw. There sat a painted 
and feathered warrior in a perfectly upright 
position with his legs crossed and his head 
turned to one side in the most natural way 
imaginable. His neck was broken and he 
was as dead as they ever made 'em. I am 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 223 

bound to admit that I jumped back, fearful 
that he was alive and would bore me through 
and through before I could pull down on 
him. 

What we had been shooting at so fre- 
quently was the dead warrior's lance, which 
was covered with webbing and adorned with 
black feathers at intervals of every five or 
six inches. The lance had been stuck up- 
right in the ground, and had been shot in 
two, which caused the feathers to disappear — 
the upper part had doubled over across the 
dead Indian's legs. I added the lance to my 
"prizes of war." 

The object that I had seen crawling 
along the edge of the tall grass was the 
third that demanded my attention. I found 
a dead Indian lying flat on his stomach. He 
was naked, save for a white cloth wrapped 
round his hips. His six-shooter was in his 
belt. The Indian had been shot through the 
body, and one knee had been shattered. I 
could plainly see the trail he had made by 
the blood on the grass. A short distance 
away lay a shot pouch and a powder horn; 
there were about fifteen army cartridges in 
the pouch. A few steps further, was his 50- 
caliber needle gun, an army Springfield. Next, 



224 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

were his bow and his quiver. I confiscated 
the whole outfit. 

One of the noisiest and most active spec- 
tators of the fight was a young crow which 
some of the hunters had captured shortly 
after our arrival at Adobe Walls. The crow 
had been petted by every man in camp. All 
of us were acquainted with the old super- 
stition that the crow is an omen of death. 
During the worst of the fight this crow flew 
from one building to another, in and out of 
the open windows, calling "Caw! Caw! Caw!" 
in the most dismal way. It would alight on 
some object in the room, and sit there call- 
ing and cawing until somebody, tiring of the 
noise, would shout, "Get out of here, you 
black rascal!" and then chase him from the 
building. The crow would fly to another 
building and repeat his performance. De- 
spite the bullets, this crow was never injured 
and, save our horses, was the only thing left 
outside. 

There were several dogs at the Walls, 
but all of them cut for tall timber when the 
fighting began and did not show up for sev- 
eral days. All our horses were killed or 
run off. The five horses that had been left 
in the stockade were quickly shot down, the 
Indians poking their guns between the cot- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 225 

tonwood pickets. Four head tied to a wagon 
near Rath's were cruelly killed. I saw the 
Indians when they first rode up and tried 
to cut the rope with a butcher knife. One 
was a gray mare that was notorious for her 
vicious kicking. She would not let the In- 
dians approach her, so all were shot. My 
own saddle horse, which I had owned for 
years and highly prized, was among the first 
to be shot, and still lay tied to the wagon 
when I found him. 

The Indians were not without military 
strategy. They had planned to put every 
man of us afoot, thereby leaving us without 
means of escape and powerless to send for aid 
save as some messenger might steal away in 
the darkness, to traverse on foot the weary 
distance and the dangerous and inhospitable 
region that lay between us and Dodge City. 
By holding us constantly at bay and keep- 
ing fresh detachments of warriors rallying 
to the attack they probably thought it possi- 
ble to exhaust our strength, and then over- 
whelm us. It should be remembered that 
Adobe Walls was scarcely more than a lone 
island in the vast sea of the Plains, a solitary 
refuge uncharted and practically unknown. 
For the time we were at the end of the 
world, our desperate extremity pressing 

15D 



226 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

heavily upon us, and our friends and com- 
rades to the north ignorant of what was 
taking place. 

At the first dash, the Indians had driven 
off all the horses they had found grazing in 
the little valley, and which Billy Ogg had 
gone in the dusk of dawn to round up pre- 
paratory to our departure for the hunting 
grounds. We counted fifty-six dead horses 
scattered in the immediate vicinity of the 
buildings, some with arrows sticking in their 
bodies, and others bored with bullets. Of 
these ten head belonged to the hunters. 
Added to this slaughter were the twenty- 
eight head of oxen that belonged to the 
Shadier brothers. In nearly every instance, 
a horse that had been wounded far from the 
buildings would stagger in our direction, ap- 
parently to get as close as possible to his 
friends. There they would stand in agony 
until the Indians shot them down, which 
happened in every instance. 

The last victim of their cruelty was a 
mustang colt owned by Mrs. Olds. This colt 
had been captured by some of the hunters 
among a bunch of wild mustangs, and given 
as a present to Mrs. Olds who had petted the 
graceful, affectionate little creature until it 
followed her from place to place like a 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 227 

dog. Some rather romantic stories have been 
written about this mustang colt and the part 
it played in the fight at Adobe Walls. The 
truth, however, unadorned, is the colt re- 
mained near the buildings throughout the 
fight, and when I saw it a feathered arrow 
was sticking in its back. I never knew 
whether the colt died of this wound or was 
afterwards shot to put the poor little thing 
out of its misery. 

When we found that we could move 
around outside the buildings without danger 
of immediate attack, we blanketed the bodies 
of Tyler and the Shadlers and dug a single 
grave near the north side of the corral. 
There they lie to this day, without a stone 
to mark the spot. Many a spring and many 
a summer have come and gone, and many a 
winter has sent its blinding snows across the 
Panhandle since that far-off day. The In- 
dians and the buffaloes have vanished from 
the scene, and the plow is running over the 
land where they ranged. After all, the boys 
are sleeping as quietly and as restfully as 
if they had been buried in the village church- 
yard back at their old homes. 

Despite the utmost efforts of our savage 
foes to carry away their dead and wounded, 
thirteen dead Indians were left on the ground 



228 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

near the buildings, so closely under the muz- 
zles of our guns that it would have been 
suicide for their comrades to have attempted 
their recovery. By the time we had buried 
our three comrades, darkness had come, and 
we abandoned further outside work and re- 
turned to the protection of the buildings, 
completely exhausted by the strain and ex- 
citement of the day's fighting. 

What we had experienced ate into a 
man's nerves. I doubt if any of us slept 
soundly that June night. Somewhere out 
there in the darkness our enemies were 
watching to see that nobody escaped from 
the beleagured adobe buildings. Inasmuch 
as Indians rarely, if ever, attack at night, 
preferring the shadows of early morning 
when sleep is soundest, and when there 
is less chance of their being ambushed, 
we felt reasonably certain of not being at- 
tacked before daybreak. As for myself I 
dreamed all night, the bloody scenes of the 
day passing in endless procession through my 
mind — I could see the Indians charging across 
the valley, hear the roar of the guns and 
the blood-curdling war-whoops, until every- 
thing was a bewildering swirl of fantastic 
colors and movements. 

All my comrades at Adobe Walls that 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 229 

day showed much courage. It is with pride 
that I can recall its many incidents without 
the feeling that there was the slightest inclin- 
ation on the part of any man to show the 
"white feather." To be nervous or fearful 
of death is no sign of weakness — sticking at 
one's post and doing the thing that is to be 
done is what counts. 

"Bat" Masterson should be remembered 
for the valor that marked his conduct. He 
was a good shot, and not afraid. He has 
worked his way up in the world, and has 
long been a successful writer for a New 
York newspaper. He was sheriff of Ford 
county, Kansas, at Dodge City, in 1876-77. It 
has always seemed strange to me that finally 
he should prefer life in a big city, after 
having lived in the west. I have been told 
that he has said that he had no wish again 
to live over those old days, that they no longer 
appealed to him, but I never believed it. 
Such a thing is contrary to human nature. 

All that long night after the first day's 
fighting not a sound was heard nor did an 
Indian come near. Next morning the pet 
crow was the only living object to be seen in 
the valley, where he was holding high car- 
nival on the dead horses, flying from one car- 
cass to another. 



230 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

By this lime such an awful stench was ' 
rising from the dead Indians and dead horses 
that we were forced to get rid of them. As 
we had no teams with which to drag them 
away, we rigged up several buffalo hides and 
tied ropes to them, then rolled the bodies 
onto the hides and pulled them far enough 
away to prevent the evil smell from 
reaching the buildings. In this way three or 
four men could move a horse. 

At one place, between Rath's and Han- 
rahan's, twelve horses lay piled together. We 
dug a pit close at hand and rolled them in. 
The other horses and the Indians were drag- 
ged off on the prairie and left to the coy- 
otes and buzzards. 

On the second day we saw only one 
bunch of Indians. They were on a bluff 
across the valley east of us. Some of our 
men opened up on them at long range; the 
Indians returned the fire and disappeared. 
It was plain to them that there was still a 
lot of fight left in us. 

Our situation looked rather gloomy. 
With every horse dead or captured, we felt 
pretty sore all round. The Indians were 
somewhere close at hand, watching our every 
movement. We were depressed with the 
melancholy feeling that probably all the 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 231 

hunters out in the camps had been killed. 
?^ate that afternoon our spirits leaped up 
when we saw a team coming up the valley 
from the direction of the Canadian. This 
outfit belonged to George Bellfield, a German 
who had been a soldier in the Civil War. 

A black flag was flying from one of the 
buildings, and when Bellfield and his com- 
panions saw it they thought we were playing 
some kind of joke on them. In broken 
English Bellfield remarked to his men, "Dem 
fellers link day's damn smart, alretty." But 
when he drew nearer and began seeing the 
dead horses, he put the whip to his team and 
came in at a dead run. 

When asked if they had been attacked 
by Indians, Bellfield and his men said that 
they had not seen a sign of one. That same 
day Jim and Bob Cator came in from their 
camp north of Adobe Walls. 

It was of greatest importance that some- 
body should go to Dodge City for help. 
Henry Lease, a buffalo hunter, volunteered 
to undertake this dangerous journey, Bell- 
field furnishing a horse. Lease started after 
dark on the second day. He carefully ex- 
amined his pistols and his big "50," filled his 
belts with plenty of ammunition, shook hands 
with us and rode away in the night. I doubt 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 233 

if there was a man who believed that Lease 
would get through alive. It was a certainty, 
however, that there would be a pile of dead 
Indians where he fell, if he were given a 
fighting chance for his life. 

At the same time we sent out two men 
to visit the different camps, and warn the 
hunters that the Indians were on the war 
path. They were to bring back the news if 
the hunters were dead. 
^ On the third day a party of about fifteen 
Indians appeared on the side of the bluff, 
east of Adobe Walls Greek, and some of the 
boys suggested that I try my big "50" on 
them. The distance was not far from three- 
fourths of a mile. A number of exaggerated 
accounts have been written about this in- 
cident. I took careful aim and pulled the 
trigger. We saw an Indian fall from his 
horse. The others dashed out of sight be- 
hind a clump of timber. A few moments 
later two Indians ran quickly on foot to 
where the dead Indian lay, seized his body 
and scurried to cover. They had risked 
their lives, as we had frequently observed, 
to rescue a comrade who might be not only 
wounded but dead. I was admittedly a good 
marksman, yet this was what might be called 
a "scratch" shot. 



234 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

More hunters came in on the third day, 
and as news of the Indian outbreak spread 
from camp to camp the boys were soon com- 
ing in hke blackbirds from all directions — 
and they lost no time making the trip. By 
the sixth day there were fully a hundred 
men at the Walls, which may have given rise 
to the statement so frequently made in after 
years that all these men were in the fight. 

The lone woman who was at Adobe 
Walls, Mrs. Olds, was as brave as the bravest. 
She knew only too well how horrible her 
fate would be if she should fall into the 
hands of the Indians, and under such cir- 
cumstances it would have caused no surprise 
had she gone into the wildest hysterics. But 
all that first day, when the hand of death 
seemed to be reaching from every direction, 
this pioneer woman was cool and composed 
and lent a helping hand in every emergency. 

By the fifth day enough hunters had ar- 
rived to make us feel comparatively safe, yet 
it was expedient that we should protect our- 
selves as fully as possible, so the men began 
fortifying the buildings. None of them had 
been finished, nor had any port-holes been 
cut in the walls. Our shooting was done 
from the windows and transoms. With port- 
holes we could have killed many more In- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 235 

dians. A little inclosure with sod walls was 
now built on top of Rath's store, and an- 
other on top of Myer's for lookouts. A lad- 
der led from the inside to these lookouts. 

On the fifth day William Olds was sta- 
tioned in the lookout on Rath's store, to 
watch for Indians while the other men were 
at work. The lookout on the other build- 
ings shouted that Indians were coming, and 
all of us ran for our guns and for shelter 
inside the buildings. Just as I entered Rath's 
store I saw Olds coming down the ladder 
with his gun in his hand. A moment later 
his gun went off accidentally, tearing off the 
top of Old's head. At the same instant Mrs. 
Olds rushed from an adjoining room — in 
time to see the body of her husband roll 
from the ladder and crumple at her feet, a 
torrent of blood gushing from the terrible 
wound. Olds died instantly. Gladly would I 
have faced all the Indians from the Cimar- 
ron to Red River, rather than have witnessed 
this terrible scene. It seemed to me that it 
would have been better for any other man 
there to have been taken than the husband 
of the only woman among us. Her grief 
was intense and pitiable. A rough lot of 
men, such as we were, did not know how to 
comfort a woman in such distress. We did 



236 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

the best we could, and if we did it awkward- 
ly, it should not be set down against us. Had 
we been called upon to fight for her, we 
would not have asked about the odds, but 
would have sailed in, tooth and toe-nail. 
When we tried to speak to her we just 
choked up and stood still. We buried Olds 
that same evening, about sixty feet from the 
spot where he was killed, just southeast of 
Rath's store. 

The Indians that had caused the alarm 
numbered between twenty-five and thirty, 
and were up the valley of Adobe Walls Greek 
headed east. Finally, they disappeared, and 
we did not see them again. They may not 
have belonged to the attacking party, and 
were merely passing through the country. 

I always regretted that I did not keep 
the relics I picked up at Adobe Walls. Mrs. 
Olds asked me for the lance when I returned 
to the building, and I gave it to her. The 
other relics I took to Dodge City, and gave 
them away to first one person and then 
another. 



CHAPTER X. 

THE warriors that attacked Adobe Walls 
made an extensive raid. Writing from 
Cheyenne Agency, at Darlington, in Sep- 
tember, 1874, a Government employee gave 
this information to the Commissioner of In- 
dian Affairs: 

"We are informed by Little Robe, White 
Shield, and other Cheyennes that Lone Wolf, 
a Kiowa chief, was the first to commence the 
present Indian trouble, by going with a band 
of his warriors on a raid into Texas. Big 
Bow, a Comanche, soon followed. After 
these parties returned the Kiowas, Comanches, 
and Cheyennes made the attack upon Adobe 
Walls. After that fight the combined forces 
separated into a number of war parties; some 
went into Texas, others into New Mexico and 
Colorado, and still others along the Fort 
Sill and Wichita Railroad and the Kansas 
border. We have had well-authenticated ac- 
counts from Indians and from other sources 
that the number of individuals killed in New 
Mexico amounted to 40; Colorado, 60; Lone 
Wolfs first raid into Texas, 7; Big Bow's 
first raid into Texas, 4; the Adobe Walls 
fight, 3; southwest from Camp Supply, buff a- 



238 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

lo-hunters, 3; between Gamp Supply and 
Dodge, buffalo-hunters, 5; in the vicinity of 
Medicine Lodge and Sun City, 12; on Crooked 
Creek, 2; on the trail north from Cheyenne 
Agency, 5; on the Atchison, Topeka & Santa 
Fe Railroad, 4; Washita and Fort Sill agen- 
cies and vicinity, 14; Dr. Holloway's son, 
Cheyenne Agency, 1; Mr. Dougherty, beef 
contractor for these three agencies reports 
at least thirty persons recently killed in Tex- 
as, 30; total, 190. 

"White Shield this day informed me that 
the Kiowa chief. White Horse, on his last 
raid into Texas killed eleven persons and 
captured three children. The children, he 
states, are now in the Kiowa camps. White 
Shield says he has heard of several other 
captives with the Comanches and Kiowas, 
but these three mentioned are all he has 
seen." 

It has been said that the Indians aban- 
doned the tight because of the wounding of 
Quanah Parker, the Comanche chief, and 
again because the "medicine" man found that 
his "medicine" was bad. To be more exact, 
the Indians probably came to the conclusion 
that if they remained long enough, charged 
often enough and got close enough, all of 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 239 

them would be killed, as they were unable 
to dislodge us from the buildings. 

In the fall of 1877, many of the Gom- 
anches became dissatisfied with their life on 
the military reservation at Fort Sill and fled 
to their old home on the Staked Plains. Chas. 
Goodnight was running his cattle in the lower 
end of Pala Duro, and the Gomanches were 
soon killing beef. When he heard of it, he 
mounted his horse and rode down to where 
they were and made a private peace treaty 
with them, agreeing to give them two beeves 
a day as long as they remained, if they 
would not raid his herd. His proposal was 
accepted, and the compact was kept until 
the soldiers arrived and compelled the Gom- 
anches to return to their reservation. 

I met Quanah at that time, having gone 
out with the troops. As we were riding along 
one day, he began talking about the fight at 
the Walls. When I told him that I was 
one of the men that had fought against him, 
he leaned over on his horse and shook my 
hand. We became good friends. 

A number of different stories have been 
related about Quanah's mishaps in the fight. 
A man who knew him well in later years 
said that Quanah told him that early in the 
fight on the first day his horse was shot and 



240 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

killed at a distance of between 400 and 500 
yards from the buildings. The horse fell 
suddenly, pitching Quanah headlong to the 
ground his gun falling from his grasp and 
bounding away. When Quanah saw that his 
horse was dead, he took shelter behind an old 
buffalo carcass over which wood-rats had piled 
Aveeds and grass, making a heap about waist 
high. Then something happened that Qua- 
nah was never able to explain. He was 
struck a terrific blow between his shoulder 
blade and his neck. He was badly stunned 
but managed to gain his feet and ran and 
hid himself in a plum thicket. At first he 
thought somebody had hit him with a heavy 
stone, but as only his own men could have 
done this, he abandoned this notion and 
concluded that he had been hit by a spent 
or deflected bullet. His right shoulder was 
useless most of the day, and he could raise 
his gun with difficulty. He left the battle- 
ground by riding behind another Indian. 

Had it not been for the cracking of the 
Cottonwood ridge pole in Hanrahan's saloon, 
the Indians would have come upon us un- 
awares and all of us would have been killed, 
yet we never could find a single thing wrong 
with the log. Every hunter that came in 
after the fight, as well as every man at the 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 241 

Walls, examined that cottonwood ridge log 
over and over to find the break, but it could 
not be found. The two men who were sleep- 
ing in the building declared that the noise 
sounded like the report of a rifle. 

The fight at Adobe Walls broke up buf- 
falo-hunting in that section just as the In- 
dians had planned. This was the last buffa- 
lo-hunting I ever did as a business. Hanra- 
han owned a big outfit and lost everything. 

We were now so strong in numbers and 
so many days had passed without the com- 
ing of relief from Dodge that we organized 
a party of about twenty-five men to go up 
there and find out why help was not coming. 
Jim Hanrahan, the oldest man among us, was 
placed in command. It had now been about 
a week since the fight. 

A serious row was barely averted the 
night before we pulled out for Dodge. Guns 
were scarce, and after the death of Olds 
"Bat" Masterson had borrowed the Olds gun, 
a better gun than the one used by Masterson 
who had lent his gun to another man. When 
it was learned that we were going to Dodge, 
Mrs. Olds sent for her husband's gun. "Bat" 
sent back word that he wanted to keep the 
gun until morning, promising that he would 
promptly return it at that time. This was 

16D 



242 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

not agreeable to Mrs. Olds, and she sent a 
man named Brown to Hanrahan's to get 
the gun without further talk, as she feared 
that she might lose the gun. 

Brown made a few mistakes in his lan- 
guage in discussing the matter with Hanra- 
han, the latter having said several times that 
he would be personally responsible for the 
gun and would guarantee that it was re- 
turned to Mrs. Olds. Brown crowded matters 
until Hanrahan grabbed him by the neck, 
shook him as a bulldog would a rabbit, and 
then threw Brown out of the saloon, saying, 

"Get out of my building, you , "! 

Hanrahan drew his own gun and had Brown 
covered, ready to pull the trigger, which I 
believe he would have done, if several of us 
had not disarmed him, and then reasoned 
with him not to go any further, because if 
shooting began there was no telling what 
might happen, as both men had friends. Next 
morning "Bat" returned the gun to Mrs. 
Olds. 

The row spread ill feeling among a num- 
ber of the men, and though blood that had 
been spilt in fighting for each other was 
scarcely dry on the ground, yet some were 
now ready to begin fighting each other. This 
was the way of the west in those times — 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 243 

every tub had to stand on its own bottom 
every minute of the day. It was the code 
that every able-bodied man had to live by. 
If, however, a man should fall sick or be 
in bad luck or crippled, the boys stuck to 
him until he was able to take care of him- 
self. The quarrel caused a little embarrass- 
ment to me, for as we rode away next morn- 
ing and were passing Leonard & Myers store, 
Ihe men there yelled out, "Goodbye, we don't 
care for any of you leaving, except Billy 
Dixon." 

We went up Short Greek until we got 
out on the Plains, where we left the main- 
traveled freight road and bore more to the 
west, as we felt that the Indians might be 
watching this main road. We made it to the 
head of the Palo Duro the first day and went 
into camp. By making a long ride our next 
camp was San Francisco Greek. Here we 
found where buffalo-hunters had built a 
camp, and the body of Gharley Sharp, who 
had been killed by the Indians. He had been 
dead about a week, and the body was shock- 
ingly mutilated. Sharp was a partner of 
Henry Lease, and had remained in camp 
while Lease went to Adobe Walls for sup- 
plies. Sharp bore the nickname "Dublin." 
Sharp's Greek in Beaver County, Oklahoma, 



244 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

bears his name. We buried the body where 
we found it. 

Bearing to the nortlieast, we came into 
the Dodge City and Adobe Walls road at the 
Cimarron River. Another day's ride brought 
us to Crooked Creek. We were now out of 
dangerous country, and reached Dodge City 
safe and sound. 

Ours was the first crowd to reach Dodge 
City after the tight at Adobe Walls, and the 
whole town turned out to see us. Everybody 
was anxious to learn the particulars, and we 
were asked thousands of questions. News of 
what had happened at the Walls had driven 
most of the bufifalo-hunters to Dodge City, 
their camps stretching up and down the Ar- 
kansas near town. 

We learned that a relief party, composed 
of buffalo-hunters and residents of Dodge, 
had started south in command of Tom Nixon. 
There were about forty men in the party. 
Nixon was killed a year or two later by 
"Mysterious Dave" Mathews. He was a well- 
known frontiersman. 

We did not take life nor ourselves very 
seriously those days, and were soon enter- 
ing into the fun at Dodge with the greatest 
enthusiasm, forgetful of the perils and hard- 
ships that so lately beset us. Things at Dodge 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 245 

were run for the fullest enjoyment of the 
present — there was not much material to oc- 
cupy students of ancient history. The town 
had changed little since we had gone away. 
Several of the men who had come north 
from the Walls went straight to the depot 
and bought tickets for their homes in the 
east. They had enough of the Indians to last 
them several years, and were not ashamed to 
stand up and say so. Most of us were "lo- 
coed" with the sports and pastimes of the 
land where the wool was long and the cus- 
toms wild. Drouth, scarcity of water-holes, 
"northers," rattlesnakes, Indians, even the 
United States Army, could not have driven 
us east of the ninety-ninth meridian of longi- 
tude. 

The details of the fight at Adobe Walls 
were telegraphed to Fort Leavenworth. Troops 
were not despatched at once to the scene of 
the uprising, the Government taking the view 
that it would be best not to move until an 
expedition large enough to whip the Indians 
to a standstill could be sent into the field. 
General Miles reached Dodge City about 
August, going south about ten days later. 

My old friend Jack Callahan, of whom I 
have frequently spoken, had just been em- 
ployed as wagonmaster to go with the ex- 



246 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

pedition. Meeting me in the street, he otTer- 
ed to make me his assistant. I had made up 
my mind to accept the position, but fur- 
ther down the street I came across John Cur- 
ley, whom I had known at Hays City in 
1868, when he was corral-master. Curley said 
that he believed he could get me placed as 
scout and guide with General Miles, which 
exactly suited me. We went at once to Gen- 
eral Miles headquarters, where Curley intro- 
duced and recommended me. After asking 
me a few questions. General Miles turned to 
his adjutant and told him to put my name 
down. I held this position from August 6, 1874, 
to February 10, 1883, a period of nine years. 

The troops moved out of Dodge City to 
the Arkansas and camped. General Miles 
assembled his scouts and tested their marks- 
manship by having them shoot at a snag in 
the river, calling our names as he pointed 
out the objects each was to shoot at. I never 
missed a single time. 

Lieutenant Frank D. Baldwin, now a bri- 
gadier-general, was sent to Adobe Walls with 
two scouts, six Delaware trailers and a troop 
of cavalry to ascertain the situation of those 
who had remained at the Walls. We got 
there in five days. Baldwin had not recently 
seen much mounted service, and was very 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 247 

tired and saddle-worn by the time we reached 
Adobe Walls Creek. 

About 4 o'clock in the afternoon of the 
day in to the Walls, seeing that night would 
come before we arrived, Baldwin ordered 
"Bat" Masterson and myself to ride ahead 
and tell the boys that the troops were com- 
ing. This precaution was taken lest the buf- 
falo-hunters might mistake us for Indians 
and fire into us. I rode up within speaking 
distance and hollowed to the men and waved 
my hat, to let them know who I was. Recog- 
nizing me, they gave me a hearty reception. 

There were a dozen or more men in the 
buildings, where they had been shut up for 
about two months. At no time had they ven- 
tured far away. They had kept their horses 
in the stockade, fearful of an attack by In- 
dians; hay for the horses had been cut in 
the creek bottom. When Tom Nixon and his 
men came down from Dodge, Mrs. Olds and 
the greater part of the men went back with 
him. A number, however, preferred to re- 
main at the Walls, however great the risk, 
and did so. The boys cooked me a hot sup- 
per and I was telling them stories of the out- 
side world when the soldiers arrived about 
9 o'clock. 

The water in Adobe Walls Creek was 



248 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

now so low that there was not enough for 
the horses, so we pulled over on Bent's 
Creek, and camped on a mesquite flat, just 
north of the old Adobe Walls ruins. 

Next morning Lieutenant Baldwin asked 
me to walk over the battleground with him. 
Practically all the men went with us, the dis- 
tance being about a mile. The coming of 
the soldiers had given a feeling of security 
to the men at the Walls, who now turned 
out their horses to graze. Everybody was 
laughing and talking and telling jokes, with- 
out the slightest thought of danger. Some 
mischevious fellow had stuck an Indian's 
skull on each post of the corral gate. 

Tobe Robinson and George Huffman, civ- 
ilians, rode down the valley toward the Can- 
adian River to hunt wild plums which at that 
time were ripe and plentiful. They had been 
gone only a short time when our attention 
was drawn to two horsemen riding at . top 
speed from the direction of the river toward 
the Walls. Behind them came ten or fifteen 
Indians quirting their ponies at every jump. 
The two men were Robinson and Huffman. 
They had unexpectedly run into this band 
of Indians who were doing their best to cir- 
cle and cut off the two white men. There 
we stood a mile from camp where our arms 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 249 

lay, unable to render these men any assist- 
ance in their desperate straits. 

Robinson and Huffman were riding side 
by side and were able to maintain this po- 
sition until they were rounding a little knoll 
just beyond the old ruins. Here an Indian 
managed to ride up near enough to run his 
lance through Huffman's body. Huffman fell 
dead from his horse. 

The riderless horse continued running 
beside Robinson's, the Indian still pursuing, 
grabbing again and again at the rein of Huff- 
man's horse. Finally, he seized the rein, 
checked the horse, and rode back at full 
speed toward his companions. All the In- 
dians now galloped away and disappeared 
among the sand hills. 

The tragedy had happened so quickly 
that we could hardly believe our eyes. The 
Indians made no effort to mutilate or carry 
off Huffman's body. Robinson reached us in 
safety, though shaking with excitement. From 
the Indian standpoint, the warrior who had 
killed Huffman and escaped with his horse 
had covered himself with glory. Sight of the 
tents in the mesquite flat doubtless caused the 
other Indians to give up the chase, or else 
both Huffman and Robinson would have 
been lanced to death. 



250 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

Considerable time was lost in rounding 
up our horses, which were grazing in the 
valley, and getting into our saddles, to go in 
pursuit of the Indians. Before we could 
reach the Canadian the Indians had van- 
ished in the sandhills of White Deer Creek. 
We found two fagged ponies which the In- 
dians had abandoned. 

We carried Huti'man's body to the Walls 
and dug a grave close beside the others. This 
made five graves. Some day I hope a stone 
will be erected to mark the spot. These men 
gave all they had — their lives — to help make 
this a civilized country. 

Next day the soldiers and the men we 
found at the Walls started south to join the 
main command on Cantonement Creek. We 
crossed the Canadian near the mouth of 
Tallahone, where J. A. King now has a cow 
ranch. On Chicken Creek we found two In- 
dians who had stopped for noon, and had 
built a small fire. Their ponies were near 
at hand, tied to some sagebrush, and their 
blankets had been spread out on the ground 
to dry. We succeeded in killing one of them, 
but the other warrior certainly had a fine 
quality of stuff in his "medicine" bag, for he 
mounted his pony and got away, despite the 
bullets that split the air around him. He 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 251 

was too hard-pressed to get his blanket and 
a butcher knife which he left sticking in the 
ground. 

The noise of our guns stampeded a big 
bunch of buffaloes further up the creek. 
They kicked up such a cloud of dust that we 
thought a -war party of Indians, possibly the 
same that had attacked Adobe Walls, was 
coming for us, and that we had stirred up 
the worst kind of trouble. Happily, we were 
soon able to see the buffaloes, and the world 
looked brighter. 

"Old nigger" Clark, our cook, driving a 
six-mule team, with bedding, provisions and 
cooking outfit, was a long way behind when 
the shooting began. He raised a welt every 
time he hit a mule, and by the time he drew 
near us he was making the fastest kind of 
time, his eyes sticking out like white china 
saucers. When almost upon us, his mules 
took fright and ran away, and could not be 
stopped until men rode to his assistance. 

Ours was the last party of white men 
ever to leave Adobe Walls. When I passed 
that way the following fall with United States 
troops the Indians had been there and burned 
the place to the ground. The walls were still 
smoking. 

General Miles was with us on this trip. 



252 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

We camped in sight of the battleground. He 
asked hundreds of questions about the fight 
appearing curious about every detail. The 
soldiers picked up everything they could find 
in their hunt for souvenirs, even bones, which 
I am sure were mostly horse bones. The In- 
dians had gathered up all the bones of their 
dead and wrapped them in new blankets, 
depositing them at the foot of the hills on 
the east side of the valley of Adobe Walls 
Creek. The soldiers threw away the bones 
and carried off the blankets. This was in 
October. The Indians had not taken any of 
the provisions which had been left in the 
buildings. They were a suspicious people, 
and were fearful that the provisions might 
be poisoned. 

While we were at Adobe Walls on this 
last trip, a dog that I had owned at the time 
of the fight came into camp. Her appear- 
ance affected me greatly, as I was fond of 
her and loved all dumb animals. She was a 
highly intelligent setter bitch, named Fannie. 
She had disappeared with the other dogs 
the day of the fight, and I was sure that 
she had been killed by the Indians or had 
wandered away and starved. Seven months 
had passed since I had seen her. 

After we had petted her and fed her, 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 253 

Fannie disappeared. But her absence was 
brief. She came back with something in her 
mouth and stood wagging her tail, to at- 
tract attention. When we saw what she had 
brought to us every man grinned and was as 
tickled as if he were a boy. Fannie had 
brought a fat, bright-eyed little puppy in her 
mouth. Dropping the little fellow gently on 
a pile of bedding, she frisked about with de- 
light as each of us tried to get hold of the 
pup and fondle it. Fannie bounded away 
while we were "fussing" among ourselves to 
see who should play with pup. She came 
with another pup in her mouth, laying it 
beside the other one. She made two more 
trips, until finally her family of four little 
ones were playing with each other on our 
bedding. The father of these pups was the 
big Newfoundland that belonged to the Shad- 
ier brothers, which the Indians killed while 
he was trying to defend his masters at the 
very beginning of the Adobe Walls fight. 
When we pulled out, Fannie and her babies 
were given a snug place in the mess wagon. 



CHAPTER XL 

THE most perilous adventure of my life 
occurred September 12, 1874, in what was 
known as the Buffalo Wallow Fight. My 
escape from death was miraculous. The year 
1874, as the reader doubtless may have ob- 
served, brought me full measure of things I 
had dreamed of doing when a boy. I came 
in contact with hostile Indians as frequently 
as the most devoted warrior might wish, and 
found that it was serious business. 

On September 10, 1874, General Nelson 
A. Miles, in command of the troops cam- 
paigning against the Indians in the South- 
west, was on McGlellan Creek, in the Pan- 
handle, when he ordered Amos Chapman and 
myself, scouts, and four enlisted men to car- 
ry dispatches to Fort Supply. The enlisted 
men were Sergeant Z. T. Woodhull, Troop I; 
Private Peter Rath, Troop A; Private John 
Harrington, Troop H; and Private George W. 
Smith, Troop M, Sixth Cavalry. When Gen- 
eral Miles handed us the dispatches, he told 
us that we could have all the soldiers we 
thought necessary. His command was short 
of rations. We preferred the smallest pos- 
sible number. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 255 

Leaving camp, we traveled mostly at 
night, resting in secluded places during the 
day. War parties were moving in every di- 
rection, and there was danger of attack at 
every turn. On the second day, just as the 
sun was rising, we were nearing a divide be- 
tween the Washita River and Gageby Greek. 
Riding to the top of a little knoll, we found 
ourselves almost face to face with a large 
band of Kiowa and Gomanche warriors. The 
Indians saw us at the same instant and, cir- 
cling quickly, surrounded us. We were in 
a trap. We knew that the best thing to do 
was to make a stand and fight for our lives, 
as there would be great danger of our be- 
coming separated in the excitement of a run- 
ning fight, after which the Indians could the 
more easily kill us one by one. We also 
realized that we could do better work on 
foot, so we dismounted and placed our horses 
in the care of George Smith. In a moment 
or two poor Smith was shot down, and the 
horses stampeded. 

When Smith was shot, he fell flat on his 
stomach, and his gun fell from his hand, 
far beyond his reach. But no Indian was 
ever able to capture that gun; if one ven- 
tured near Smith, we never failed to bring 
him down. We thought Smith was dead 



256 



Life of "Billy" Dixon 




Unit oil e and Ills Band of Murderous Kioiva Raiders. 



when he fell, but he survived until about 
11 o'clock that night. 

I realized at once that I was in closer 
quarters than I had ever been in my life, and 
I have always felt that I did some good 
work that day. I was fortunate enough not 
to become disabled at any stage of the fight. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 257 

which left me free to do my best under the 
circumstances. I received one wound — a bul- 
let in the calf of my leg. I was wearing a 
thin cashmere shirt, slightly bloused. This 
shirt was literally riddled with bullets. How 
a man could be shot at so many times at 
close range and not be hit I could never 
understand. The Indians seemed to feel ab- 
solutely sure of getting us, so sure, in fact, 
that they delayed riding us down and killing 
us at once, which they could easily have done, 
and prolonged the early stages of the fight 
merely to satisfy their desire to toy with an 
enemy at bay, as a cat would play with a 
mouse before taking its life. 

We saw that there was no show for us 
to survive on this little hillside, and decided 
that our best lighting ground was a small 
mesquite flat several hundred yards distant. 
Before we undertook to shift our position a 
bullet struck Amos Chapman. I was looking 
at him when he was shot. Amos said, "Billy, 
I am hit at last," and eased himself down. 
The fight was so hot that I did not have time 
to ask him how badly he was hurt. Every 
man, save Rath and myself, h,ul been wound- 
ed. Our situation was growing more des- 
perate every minute. I knew that something 
had to be done, and quickly, or else all of 

17D 



258 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

us in a short while would be dead or in 
the hands of the Indians, who would torture 
as in the most inhuman manner before tak- 
ing our lives. 

I could see where the buffaloes had 
pawed and wallowed a depression, commonly 
called a buffalo "wallow," and I ran for it 
at top speed. It seemed as if a bullet whiz- 
zed past me at every jump, but I got through 
unharmed. The wallow was about ten feet 
in diameter. I found that its depth, though 
slight, afforded some protection. I shouted to 
my comrades to try to come to me, which 
all of them save Smith and Chapman, com- 
menced trying to do. As each man reached 
the wallow, he drew his butcher knife and 
began digging desperately with knife and 
hands to throw up the dirt round the sides. 
The land happened to be sandy, and we made 
good headway, though constantly interrupted 
by the necessity of firing at the Indians as 
they dashed within range. 

It was probably about noon before we 
reached the wallow. Many times that ter- 
rible day did I think that my last moment 
was at hand. Once, when the Indians were 
crowding us awfully hard, one of the boys 
raised up and yelled, "No use, boys, no use; 
we might as well give it up." We answered 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 259 

by shouting to him to He down. At that 
moment a bullet struck in the soft bank near 
him and completely filled his mouth with 
dirt. I was so amused that I laughed, though 
in a rather sickly way, for none of us felt 
much like laughing. 

By this time, however, I had recovered 
from the first excitement of battle, and was 
perfectly cool, as were the rest of the men. 
We were keenly aware that the only thing 
to do was to sell our lives as dearly as pos- 
sible. We fired deliberately, taking good aim, 
and were picking off an Indian at almost 
every round. The wounded men conducted 
themselves admirably, and greatly assisted in 
concealing our crippled condition by sitting 
upright, as if unhurt, after they reached the 
wallow. This made it impossible for the In- 
dians accurately to guess what plight we were 
in. Had they known so many of us were 
wounded undoubtedly they would have rode 
in and finished us. 

After all had reached the wallow, with 
the exception of Chapman and Smith, all of 
us thinking that Smith was dead, somebody 
called to Chapman to come on in. We now 
learned for the first time that Chapman's leg 
was broken. He called back that he could 
not walk, as his left knee was shattered. 



260 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

I made several efforts to reach him be- 
fore I succeeded. Every time the Indians 
saw me start, they would fire such a volley 
that I was forced to retreat, until finally I 
made a run and got to Chapman. 1 told him 
to climb on my back, my plan being to carry 
him as I would a little child. Drawing both 
his legs in front of me, and laying the broken 
one over the sound one, to support it, I car- 
ried him to the wallow, though not without 
difTiculty, as he was a larger man than my- 
self, and his body a dead weight. It taxed 
my strength to carry him. 

We were now all in the wallow, except 
Smith, and we felt that it would be foolish 
and useless to risk our lives in attempting to 
bring in his dead body. We had not seen 
him move since the moment he went down. 
We began digging like gophers with our 
hands and knives to make our little wall of 
earth higher, and shortly had heaped up 
quite a little wall of dirt around us. Its 
protection was quickly felt, even though our 
danger was hardly lessened. 

When I look back and recall our situa- 
tion, I always find myself thinking of how my 
wounded companions never complained nor 
faltered, but fought as bravely as if a bullet 
had not touched them. Sometimes the In- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 261 

dians would ride toward us at headlong speed 
with lances uplifted and poised, undoubtedly 
bent upon spearing us. Such moments made 
a man brace himself and grip his gun. For- 
tunately, we were able to keep our heads and 
to bring down or disable the leader. Such 
charges proved highly dangerous to the In- 
dians, and gradually grew less frequent. 

Thus, all that long, hot September day the 
Indians circled round us or dashed past, yell- 
ing and cutting all kinds of capers. All 
morning we had been without water, and 
the wounded were sorely in need of it. In 
the stress and excitement of such an en- 
counter, even a man who has not been hurt 
grows painfully thirsty, and his tongue and 
lips are soon as dry as a whetstone. Ours 
was the courage of despair. We knew what 
would befall us if we should be captured alive 
—we had seen too many naked and mangled 
bodies of white men who had been spread- 
eagled and tortured with steel and fire to 
forget what our own fate would be. So we 
were determined to fight to the end, not un- 
mindful of the fact that every once in a 
while there was another dead or wounded 
Indian. 

About 3 o'clock a black cloud came up in 
the west, and in a short time the skv shook 



262 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

and blazed with thunder and lightning. Rain 
fell in blinding sheets, drenching us to the 
skin. Water gathered quickly in the buf- 
falo wallow, and our wounded men eagerly 
bent forward and drank from the muddy 
pool. It was more than muddy — that water 
was red with their own blood that had 
flowed from their wounds and lay clotting 
and dry in the hot September sun. 

The storm and the rain proved our sal- 
vation. The wind had shifted to the north 
and was now drearily chilling us to the bone. 
An Indian dislikes rain, especially a cold 
rain, and these Kiowas and Comanches were 
no exception to the rule. We could see them 
in groups out of rifle range sitting on their 
horses with their blankets drawn tightly 
around them. The Plains country beats the 
world for quick changes in weather, and in 
less than an hour after the rain had fallen, 
the wind was bitterly cold. Not a man in 
our crowd had a coat, and our thin shirts 
were scant protection. Our coats were tied 
behind our saddles when our horses stam- 
peded, and were lost beyond recovery. I was 
heart-sick over the loss of my coat, for in 
the inside pocket was my dearest treasure, my 
mother's picture, which my father had given 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 263 

me shortly before his death. I was never 
able to recover it. 

The water was gathering rapidly in the 
wallow and soon had reached a depth of two 
inches. Not a man murmured. Not one 
thought of surrender. The wounded were 
shivering as if they had ague. 

We now found that our ammunition was 
running low. This fact rather appalled us, 
as bullets, and plenty of them, were our only 
protection. At the fight at the Walls, not 
only was there plenty of ammunition, but 
the buildings themselves gave confidence. 
Necessity compelled us to save every cartridge 
as long as possible, and not to fire at an 
Indian unless we could see that he meant 
business and was coming right into us. 

Late in the afternoon somebody suggested 
that we go out and get Smith's belt and six- 
shooter, as he had been shot early in the 
fight and his belt undoubtedly was loaded 
with cartridges. 

Rath offered to go, and soon returned 
and said that Smith was still alive, which 
astonished us greatly, as well as causing us 
to regret that we had not known it earlier 
in the day. Rath and I at once got ready to 
bring Smith to the buffalo wallow. By sup- 
porting the poor wounded fellow between us. 



264 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

he managed to walk. We could see that 
there was no chance for him. He was shot 
through the left lung and when he breathed 
the wind sobbed out of his back under the 
shoulder blade. Near the wallow an Indian 
had dropped a stout willow switch with which 
he had been whipping his pony. With this 
switch a silk handkerchief was stuffed into 
the gaping bullet hole in Smith's back. 

Night was approaching, and it looked 
blacker to me than any night I had ever 
seen. Ours was a forlorn and disheartening 
situation. The Indians were still all around 
us. The nearest relief was seventy-five miles 
away. Of the six men in the wallow, four 
were badly wounded, and without anything 
to relieve their suttering. We were cold and 
hungry, with nothing to eat, and without a 
blanket, coat or hat to protect us from the 
rain and the biting wind. It was impossible 
to rest or sleep in the two inches of water in 
wallow. 

I remember that I threw my hat, a wide- 
brimmed sombrero, as far from me as I 
could when our horses stampeded — the hat 
was in my way and too good a target for 
the Indians to shoot at. 

We were unable to get grass for bed- 
ding, as the whole country had been burnt 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 265 

off by the Indians. It was absolutely neces- 
sary, however, that the men should have 
some kind of bed to keep them off the cold, 
damp ground. Rath and I solved the prob- 
lem by gathering tumble-weeds which in that 
country the wind would drive for miles and 
miles, until the weeds lodged and became 
fast. Many of them were bigger than a 
bushel basket, and their twigs so tough that 
the weeds had the "spring" of a wire matress. 
We crushed the weeds, and lay down on them 
for the night, though not a man dared close 
his eyes in sleep. 

By the time heavy darkness had fallen 
every Indian had disappeared. Happily, they 
did not return to molest us during the night. 
There was a new moon, but so small and 
slender that in tthe clouded sky there was 
little light. While there was still Kght, I 
look the willow switch and sat down on the 
edge of the bank and carefully cleaned every 
gun. 

While I was cleaning the guns, we held 
a consultation to decide what would be best 
for us to do. We agreed that somebody 
should go for help. No journey could have 
been beset with greater danger. Rath and I 
both offered to go. The task was squarely 
up to us, as all the other men were injured. 



266 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

I insisted that I should go, as I knew the 
country, and felt confident that I could find 
the trail that led to Camp Supply. I was 
sure that we were not far from this trail. 

My insistence at once caused protest from 
the wounded. They were willing that Rath 
should go, but would not listen to my leav- 
ing them. Once I put my hand on my gun 
with the intention of going anyway, then yield- 
ed to their wishes against my better judgment, 
and decided to remain through the night. 
The wounded men relied greatly upon my 
skill as a marksman. 

Bidding us goodbye. Rath disappeared in 
the darkness. After he had been gone about 
two hours he came back, saying that he could 
not find the trail. 

By this time Smith had grown much 
worse and was begging us in piteous tones 
to shoot him and put an end to his terrible 
sufferings. We found it necessary to w^atch 
him closely to prevent his committing sui- 
cide. 

There was not a man among us who had 
not thought of that same melancholy fate. 
When the fight was at its worst, with the 
Indians closing in on all sides, and when it 
seemed that every minute would be our last, 
I was strongly tempted to take my butcher 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 267 

knife, which I kept at razor edge, and cut 
off my hair. In those days my hair was 
black and heavy and brushed my shoulders. 
As a matter of fact, I was rather proud of 
my hair. Its luxuriance would have tempted 
any Indian to scalp me at the first oppor- 
tunity. I had a further and final plan — to 
save my last bullet for self destruction. 

Poor Smith endured his agony like a 
brave soldier. Our hearts ached but we could 
do nothing to relieve his pain. About 10 
o'clock that night he fell asleep and we were 
glad of it, for in sleep he could forget his 
sufferings. Later in the night one of the 
boys felt of him, to see how he was getting 
along. He was cold in death. Men commonly 
think of death as something to be shunned. 
There are times, however, when its hand falls 
as tenderly as the touch of a mother's hand, 
and when its coming is welcomed by those 
to whom hopeless suffering has brought the 
last bitter dregs of life. We lifted the body 
of our dead comrade and gently laid it out- 
side the buffalo wallow on the mesquite grass, 
covering the white face with a silk handker- 
chief. 

Then the rest of us huddled together on 
the damp ground, and thought of the mor- 
row. That night is indelibly stamped in my 



268 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

memory; many a time have its perils filled 
my dreams, until I awoke startled and 
thrilled by a feeling of imminent danger. 
Every night the same stars are shining way 
out there in the Panhandle, the winds sigh 
as mournfully as they did then, and I often 
wonder if a single settler who passes the 
lonely spot knows how desperately six men 
once battled for their lives where now may be 
plowed fields, and safety and the comforts of 
civilization. 

Like everything else, the long night final- 
ly came to an end, and the sun rose clear 
and warm next morning. By this time all the 
men were willing that I should go for help, 
and I at once started. Daylight exposed me 
to many dangers from which the night shield- 
ed me. By moving cautiously at night, it 
was possible to avoid the enemy, but if sur- 
prised, to stand a good chance of escape. In 
the daytime, however, the enemy could lie 
in hiding and scan the country in every di- 
rection. On the Plains, especially in the fall 
when the grass is brown, the smallest moving 
object may be perceived by the trained eye 
at an astonishingly long distance. I knew 
that I must proceed with utmost caution, lest 
I fall into an ambush or be attacked in the 
open by superior numbers. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 269 

I had traveled scarcely more than half 
a mile when I struck the plain trail leading 
to Camp Supply. Hurrying along as rapidly 
as possible and keeping a constant lookout 
for Indians, I checked myself at the sudden 
sight of an outfit that seemed to cover about 
an acre of ground, two miles or so to the 
northwest. The outfit at first did not appear 
to be moving and I could not tell whether it 
was made up of white men or Indians. I 
skulked to a growth of tall grass and hid for 
a while. My nerves were too keen to endure 
hiding and waiting, so I stole back and took 
another look. The outfit was moving toward 
me. Shortly I was able to see that they were 
troops — Indians always traveled strung out 
in a line, while these were traveling abreast 

I never felt happier in my life. I whanged 
loose with my old "50" to attract the attention 
of the soldiers, and saw the whole command 
come to a halt. I fired my gun a second 
lime, which brought two soldiers to me. I 
told them of our condition, and they rode 
rapidly back to the command and reported. The 
commanding officer was Major Price, with a 
troop, accompanying General Miles' supply 
train which was on its way with supplies from 
Fort Supply to field headquarters. 

The same Indians that we had been fight- 



270 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

ing had been holding this supply train cor- 
ralled for four days near the Washita River. 
Major Price, luckily for the outfit, happened 
along and raised the siege. The Indians had 
just given up the attack when we ran into 
them. 

Major Price rode over to where I was 
waiting, bringing his army surgeon with him. 
I described the condition of my comrades, 
after which Major Price sent the surgeon and 
two soldiers to see what could be done for 
the wounded. I pointed out the place, which 
was about a mile distant, and asked the 
surgeon if he thought he could find it with- 
out my going along, as Major Price wanted 
me to tell him about the fight. The surgeon 
said that he could and rode away. 

I was describing in detail all that had 
happened when I looked up and saw that the 
relief party was bearing too far south. I 
fired my gun to attract their attention, and 
then waved it in the direction which they 
were to go. By this time they were within 
gunshot of my comrades in the buffalo wal- 
low. To my utter astonishment, I heard the 
roar of a gun and saw a puff of smoke rise 
from the wallow — one of the men had fired 
at the approaching strangers, killing a horse 
ridden by one of the soldiers. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 271 

I ran forward as rapidly as possible, not 
knowing what the men would do next. They 
were soon able to recognize me, and lowered 
their guns. When we got to them the men 
said that they had heard shooting — the shots 
J had fired to attract the attention of th(; 
troops — and supposed that the Indians had 
killed me and were coming for them. They 
were determined to take no chances, and 
shot at the surgeon and the two soldiers 
the moment they got within range. 

Despite the sad plight of the wounded 
men, about all the surgeon did was to ex- 
amine their injuries. The soldiers turned 
over a few pieces of hardtack and some dried 
beef, which happened to be tied behind their 
saddles. Major Price refused to leave any 
men with us. For this he was afterwards 
severely censured, and justly. He would not 
even provide us with firearms. Our own 
ammunition was exhausted and the soldiers 
carried guns of different make and caliber 
from ours. However, they said tliey would 
let General Miles know of our condition. We 
were sure that help would come the moment 
General Miles heard the news. At the time 
we were glad just to have seen these men 
and did not think much about how they 
treated us. 



272 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

We watched and waited until midnight 
of the second day after the troops had passed 
before help came. A long way oif in the 
dark we heard the faint sound of a bugle. 
It made us swallow a big lump in our 
throats and bite our lips. Nearer and clearer 
came the bugle notes. Our nerves were get- 
ting "jumpy," so strong was our emotion. We 
fired our guns, to let them know where we 
were, and soon the soldiers came riding out 
of the darkness. 

As soon as the wounded could be turned 
over to the surgeon, we placed the body of 
our dead comrade in the wallow where we 
had all fought and suffered together, and 
covered it with the dirt which we had ridged 
up with our hands and butcher knives for 
breastworks. Then we went down on the 
creek where the soldiers had built a big fire 
and cooked a meal for us. 

Next day the wounded were sent to Camp 
Supply where they were given humane and 
careful treatment. Amos Chapman's leg was 
amputated above the knee. Amos was as 
tough as second growth hickory and was soon 
out of the hospital and in the saddle. All 
the men recovered and went right on with 
the army. Chapman could handle a gun and 
ride as well as ever, the only difference being 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 273 

that he had to mount his horse from the 
right side, Indian fashion. 

I should like once more to meet the men 
with whom I fought in the Buffalo Wallow 
Fight, but I seldom hear from them. When I 
last heard of Amos Chapman he was living 
at Seiling, Oklahoma. My last letter from 
Sergeant Woodhull was dated Fort Wingate, 
New Mexico, 1883. This was shortly after 
Colonel Dodge had published his book, "Our 
Wild Indians," in which he attempted to give 
a circumstantial account of the Buffalo Wal- 
low Fight. Sergeant Woodhull was displeased 
with the statement of facts, and resented the 
inaccuracies. 

I guess I am partly to blame in the mat- 
ter. When Colonel Dodge was writing his 
book, he wrote and asked me to send him an 
account of the fight. I neglected to do so, 
and he obtained his information from other 
sources. If my present narrative differs from 
that of Colonel Dodge, all I can say is that 
I have described the fight as I saw it. In 
saying this I do not wish to place myself in 
the attitude of censuring Colonel Dodge. 
However, it should be reasonably apparent 
that a man with a broken leg cannot carry 
another man on his back. In correcting this 
bit of border history I repeat that every one 

18D 




Drew Dixon, Son of "Billi/" Dixon. 
Like His Father, a Sure Shot. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 275 

of my comrades in that fight conducted him- 
self in the most heroic manner, bravely doing 
his part in every emergency. Below will be 
found the text of the report which General 
Miles sent to Washington: 

Headquarters Indian Territory Expedition, 
Camp on Washita River, Texas, 
September 24, 1874. 
Adjutant General, U. S. A., 

Thro Offices Asst. Adjt. Gen., Head- 
quarters Department and Military Di- 
vision of the Missouri and of the 
Army. 
General : 

I deem it but a duty to brave men and 
faithful soldiers to bring to the notice of liie 
highest military authority, an instance of in- 
domitable courage, skill and true heroism on 
the part of a detachment from this command, 
with the request that the actors may be re- 
warded, and their faithfulness and braver>^ 
recognized, by pensions, medals of honor, or 
in such way as may be deemed most fitting. 
On the night of the 10th inst. a party con- 
sisting of Sergt. Z. T. Woodhall, Co. I; Pri- 
vates Peter Rath, Co. A; John Harrington, 
Co. H. and George W. Smith, Co. M, Sixth 
Cavalry; Scouts Amos Chapman and William 



276 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

Dixon, were sent as bearers of despatches 
from the camp of this command on McClel- 
land Creek to Camp Supply, I. T., 

At 6 a. m., of the 12th, when approach- 
ing the Washita River, they were met and 
surrounded by a band of Kiowa and Com- 
anches, who had scarcely left their Agency; 
at the first attack all were struck. Private 
Smith mortally, and three others severely 
wounded. Although enclosed on all sides and 
by overwhelming numbers, one of them suc- 
ceeded, while they were under a heavy fire 
at short range, and while the others, with 
their rifles, were keeping the Indians at bay 
in digging with his knife and hands a slight 
cover. After this had been secured, they 
placed themselves within it, the wounded 
walking with brave and painful efforts, and 
Private Smith, though he had received a 
mortal wound, sitting upright within the 
trench, to conceal the crippled condition of 
their party from the Indians. 

From early morning till dark, outnum- 
bered 25 to 1, under an almost constant fire 
and at such short range that they sometimes 
used their pistols, retaining the last charge 
to prevent capture and torture, this little par- 
ty of five defended their lives and the person 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 277 

of their dying comrade, without food, and their 
only drink the rain water that collected in 
a pool mingled with their own blood. 

There is no doubt but that they killed 
more than double their number, besides those 
that were wounded. The Indians abandoned 
the attack on the 12th at dark. 

The exposure and distance from the com- 
mand which were necessary incidents of their 
duty, were such, that for thirty-six hours 
from the first attack, their condition could 
not be known, and not till midnight of the 
13th could they receive medical attendance 
and food, exposed during this time to an 
incessant cold storm. 

Sergt. Woodhall, Private Harrington and 
Scout Chapman were seriously wounded. Pri- 
vate Smith died of his wounds on the morn- 
ing of the 13th. Private Rath and Scout 
Dixon were struck but not disabled. 

The simple recital of their deeds, and 
the mention of the odds against which they 
fought, how the wounded defended the dy- 
ing, and the dying aided the wounded by ex- 
posure to fresh wounds after the power of 
action was gone, these alone present a scene 
of cool courage, heroism and self-sacrifice 
which duty, as well as inclination prompts us 



278 Life of *'Billy" Dixon 

to recognize, but which we cannot fully hon- 
or. 

Very Respectfully, 
Your obedient servant, 
(Signed) NELSON A. MILES, 

Col. and Bvt. Maj. Gen'l. U. S A., Command- 
ing. 

Headquarters Indian Territory Expedition, 
Camp on Oasis Creek, L T., 

Oct. 1, 1874. 
Official copy respectfully furnished Wil- 
liam Dixon. By command of Bvt. Maj. Gen'l. 
Miles. 

G. W. BAIRD, 
Asst. Adjt. 5th Inf., A. A. A. Gen'l. 

General Miles had both the heart and the 
accomplishments of a soldier, and Congress 
voted to each of us the Medal of Honor. He 
was delighted when the Medals came from 
Washington. With his own hands he pinned 
mine on my coat when we were in camp on 
Carson Creek, five or six miles west of the 
ruins of the original Adobe Walls. The text 
of the official correspondence concerning the 
award of the Medals of Honor is appended: 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 279 

Headquarters Indian Territory Expedition, 
Camp near Fort Sill, I. T., 
January 24th, 1875. 
General Order No. 28: 

The Commanding Officer takes pleasure 
in announcing to the troops of this Expedition 
that his recommendation that the distinguished 
heroism displayed on tthe 12th of September, 
1874, by Sergeant Z. T. Woodhall of Co. I, 
Private John Harrington, Co. H, and Peter 
Rath Co. A, 6th Cavalry, and Scouts Amos 
Chapman and William Dixon be recognized, 
has been approved by the highest military 
authority, and that the Congress has De- 
stowed upon each of these men a Medal of 
Honor. It is now his pleasing duty to be- 
stow upon men who can worthily wear them, 
these tokens of the recognition and approval 
of their Government. 

By Command of Bvt. Maj. Gen'l. N. A. Miles. 
(Signed) G. W. BAIRD, 

1st Lieut, and Adjutant 5th Infty., 

A. A. A. General. 

Headquarters Ind. Ter. Expedition. 

Camp on Canadian, Texas. 
December 24, 1874. 
Mr. William Dixon, 

Sir: 

I take pleasure in presenting to you a 



280 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

Medal of Honor, as a recognition by the Gov- 
ernment of your skill, courage and determined 
fortitude, displayed in an engagement with 
(5) others, on the 12th of September, 1874, 
against hostile Indians, in overwhelming num- 
bers. 

This mark of honor, I trust, will be long 
worn by you, and though it in a small degree 
compensates for the hardships endured, yet 
it is a lasting emblem of distinguished services, 
well earned in a noble cause. It will ever 
recall the fact to you and yours, of having 
materially aided in clearing this fair coun- 
try of ruthless savages, and freeing it from 
all time to civil settlements. This must be 
an ever increasing gratification to you. 

This badge of honor is most worthily 
bestowed. 

Respectfully, &c., 

NELSON A. MILES, 
Bvt. Maj. Gen'l. U. S. Army, 

Commanding. 

It was always my intention to go back 
and mark the spot where the Buffalo Wallow 
Fight took place and where George Smith 
still lies buried. Procrastination and the re- 
moteness of the spot have prevented my go- 
ing. 



CHAPTER XII. 

IN civilized surroundings a Plains blizzard is 
bad enough; in a wild country, a blizzard 
is more appalling than a tornado, for the lat- 
ter may be dodged, but the blizzard is every- 
where and sets its teeth into a man's vitals, 
wherever he may be. A blizzard brings a 
feeling of terror that even the strongest man 
can hardly resist. I have seen men moaning 
and trembling in a blizzard, as if the last 
drop of courage had oozed from their bodies. 
They were not cowards. Their distress was 
due to an instinctive, animal-like feeling that 
death was everywhere about them, invisible, 
dread and mysterious. In time, however, this 
fearfulness wears away, but not until death 
itself has begun fastening upon the freezing 
body. As in drowning, death by freezing is 
comparatively painless. In their last hours, 
natural death usually is kind to all creatures. 
In going from the Canadian River to 
Camp Supply, March 17, 1875, with a com- 
pany of soldiers, I met with an experience 
in a blizzard that I never forgot. The snow 
had drifted so deep that the horses soon grew 
exhausted. My own horse was badly jaded. 
The men were suffering with the cold so in- 



282 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

tensely that they were unruly and hard to 
control. It was my duty to keep the lead. I 
was sure that I was going in the right direc- 
tion, though it was impossible to see more 
than ten steps ahead. 

Occasionally, one of the men would ride 
ahead of me, contrary to orders, and finally I 
told the lieutenant who was in command that 
the men would have to keep back or we 
w^ould lose our way. He forced them to stay 
behind. My horse became so fatigued that he 
began staggering, and I knew that it was no 
longer safe to ride him, as he could not be 
trusted to hold his course, so I dismounted 
and led him. A soldier, compelled to remain 
in his saddle, said that he was afraid he was 
freezing, and asked me to mount his horse 
that he might have an excuse for walking. I 
then turned my horse loose. 

Pretty soon we came to the forks of a 
draw. I took the one that I thought led to 
camp and, luckily, was right. Had we turned 
up the other prong we would have frozen to 
death. We had gone only a short distance 
from the forking when I noticed that the 
soldier on foot was not in sight. I asked the 
lieutenant if it might not be well to go back 
and look for the straggler. 

The lieutenant merely shook his head and 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 283 

motioned for me to keep going. His manner 
displeased me, until I learned that he was so 
cold that he could not open his mouth — his 
jaws were set and practically locked. 

After riding a few miles, we struck camp. 
There was plenty of timber, and we soon had 
a roaring fire, and thawed out. The soldier 
on foot was not with us. Three or four of us 
went back to where the draw pronged, and 
by the light of a lantern could plainly see his 
tracks in the snow, and where he had taken 
the wrong route, going off down the east 
prong, instead of following us. 

We hunted and hunted for him, but could 
not find him. To our amazement, he came 
into camp next morning, more dead than 
alive. His feet were frozen solid, and had 
to be amputated. 

Panhandle weather in the very early 
spring is the most unreliable in the world. 
We crawled into our blankets that night, 
numb and shivering, the wind howling in the 
timber, and the snow drifting and drifting 
around our tents. How about next morning? 
Well, the sun came up next morning, smiling 
and warm; a soft wind was whispering from 
the south, and by noon the hills were run- 
ning with water from the melted snow. When 
the snow melted from the wild plum bushes 



284 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

we saw that they were in full bloom, and 
there was not a prettier sight in the Pan- 
handle. There were worlds of plums that 
year. In two weeks the grass was green 
everywhere on the Plains, and spring came 
with a rush. 

All old-timers in the southwest remem- 
ber Jack Stilwell, scout, guide and good fel- 
low. One of his exploits was to escape at 
night from the island where Major Forsythe, 
in the Battle of the Arickaree, was surrounded 
by Indians, and go to Fort Wallace for re- 
lief. Once Jack and I were out on the Staked 
Plains with nothing to eat. Jack persuaded 
me to kill a wild horse for meat. A large 
herd was grazing at the edge of a lake, and 
I shot a two-year-old filly. We built a fire 
and cooked some of the meat. Doing my 
level best, I was never able to swallow a 
single mouthful — always it stuck in my 
throat. I preferred to go hungry rather than 
try to eat it. The meat looked good, but the 
name was too much for me. 

Stilwell was a frolicsome fellow and 
played many pranks. One time we were go- 
ing from Gamp Supply to Dodge City. Just 
to make fun on the trip, Jack told me that 
when we stopped for dinner he would dare 
me to shoot at his ears, to see what the army 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 285 

officers would do. Noon came and while the 
officer in charge was looking in our direction, 
Jack said: 

"Billy, I'll bet you can't hit my ear with 
your *50' rifle." 

"All right," I answered, "stand out there 
where you will not be in the way of the 
other gentlemen, and I'll see what I can do." 

The old army officer looked at us with 
disgust and later with horror. I was a crack 
shot, and Jack knew he was safe. Taking 
careful aim, I fired just as close to his ear 
as I dared with safety. Jack dodged and 
scratched his ear as if a hornet had stung 
him. 

"You come pretty close. Try again," he 
said. 

I shot a second time, and Jack repeated 
his scratching performance, declaring that he 
was sure I barely missed breaking the skin. 

The old army officer scowled at us as if 
we were devils. He told the men at the 
next station that we were the toughest bunch 
he was ever with, and that we had been 
shooting at each other all day. When the 
corral master wanted the old officer to ride 
the rest of the way with us, he positively and 
emphatically, even profanely refused, saying 



286 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

that we were the wrong kind of roosters for 
him to be with. 

The rescue of the four Germain sisters 
who had been captured by the Indians was 
a romantic incident of the Miles expedition to 
subdue the hostile tribes in 1875. The circum- 
stances surrounding their capture by the In- 
dians shocked the whole country and inflamed 
the border settlements with a spirit of ven- 
gence that would have wrought the destruc- 
tion of every Indian west of the Mississippi 
had it been possible to attack the marauders 
at close quarters. From time to time news 
came from the Indian country that the girls 
were still alive, and mothers everywhere were 
praying for the restoration of the captives to 
their friends. 

The fate of the Germain family was not 
unlike that of others in those troubulous times. 
John Germain was a poverty-stricken farmer 
at Blue Ridge, Fannin County, Georgia, when 
he returned from service in the Confederate 
Army in the Civil War. Contending armies 
had pillaged and devastated his neighbor- 
hood. Germain decided that he would recruit 
his broken fortune by moving west. With a 
yoke of oxen and his wife and children, he 
set out in April, 1870, halting for a time in 
central Tennessee, where he remained until 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 287 

the following September. Southern Missouri 
invited him further westward, and he moved 
to that State, where he took a homestead and 
lived three years. He was sick and discour- 
aged, and continued his way to Elgin, Kansas. 
Unrelenting misfortune met him at every turn. 
His children, as he believed, were predisposed 
to tuberculosis. On the other side of the 
Plains was Colorado with its mountain air 
and its pure water. Germain yoked his oxen 
and once more started for the promised land. 

Catherine Germain, the oldest of the four 
captured sisters, has related the incidents of 
that journey and its final catastrophe in these 
words : 

"We left Elgin August 10, 1874. We jour- 
neyed along till we came to the Smoky Hill 
River. Here we were told by the people liv- 
ing along the line that we had better keep 
along the river, so we could get water. They 
said we could not get water if we went along 
the railroad. And if we took the old trail by 
the river we would not see a house for over 
a hundred miles. We took the river road 
and everything seemed perfectly quiet. We 
met several persons on our several days' 
journey up the river. 

"Father said we would start early and 
make Fort Wallace the last day. I knew that 



288 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

he felt uneasy all that lonely way, but we 
had no indications of danger, and now we 
were so near to the settlement he seemed 
more at ease. 

"It was September 11. We were just 
starting as the sun began to peep over the 
hills. Father took his gun and started on 
ahead of the wagon. My brother and I had 
gone to drive the cows along. We were driv- 
ing two cows and two yearlings. We had 
just turned them toward the moving wagon 
when we heard yells. 

"On looking we saw Indians dashing down 
upon the wagon and father. We were about 
a hundred yards off and we started to run in 
a northeastern direction. We got something 
like a half mile but we were followed by the 
Indians. Brother was killed and I was taken 
back to the wagon, only to see that father, 
mother and my oldest sister had been killed. 
Then they killed my sister younger than me. 
They thought they were taking the four young- 
est because I was smaller than my sister they 
killed last. This was all done in a very short 
time. 

"Leaving the wreck behind, they then 
started south, and took the cattle along some 
distance; then they killed them, ate what they 
wanted and left the carcasses lay. That after- 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 289 

noon a thunderstorm came up and the rain 
poured down, but we had no shelter. When 
they stopped for the night they tried to fix 
blankets up for shelter, but made a poor at- 
tempt at it. There were nineteen Indians, 
seventeen men and two squaws. The little 
squaw (we called her) seemed very sorry for 
us and would try to prepare something for us 
to eat, but the big one was of a different na- 
ture and not much inclined to do anything 
for our benefit. If anything was done to make 
our distress greater, she seemed to enjoy it 
hugely. 

"These Indians had left their main tribe 
on the plains of Texas and come on a raiding 
tour. There was a raiding party of about a 
hundred in the country at that time. We did 
not see the big party." 

When an Indian war party moves rapidly 
over long distances in dangerous country, the}^ 
become fagged just as do white men. When 
this band reached the Arkansas, a halt was 
made to forage for meat. Cattle were killed 
wherever they could be found, and the carcasses 
abandoned to wolves after the Indians had 
eaten their fill. The party seemed fearful that 
soldiers were following them. 

"We travelled at a lively gait and I know 
they were expecting to be followed," wrote 

19D 



290 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

Catherine. "They scarcely spoke above a 
whisper. We travelled speedily till toward 
morning, then stopped till daylight. We 
were pretty hungry some days, for we did not 
have our meals very regular; once a day and 
sometimes not that often. Julia and Ad- 
die, the little ones, were kept together. 
Sophia and I were not allowed to be to- 
gether, only now and then we got together for 
a while. When we came to the Canadian River 
the Indians seemed very uneasy, and hid in 
the hills, hollows and brush for three days. 
The troops had been that way only a short time 
before we got there. The wagon trails were 
fresh yet. They left the Canadian on the third 
night and travelled nearly all night. Then for 
several days we travelled across the highland 
between the Canadian and Red rivers. 

"When we came to the hills of the Red river 
they took to travelling at night again. We had 
been travelling on this night about two hours, 
and I should think it was somewhere about 
11 o'clock, when all of a sudden they became 
confused and held a whispered consultation. 
Whatever their fright was, they went around it, 
and travelled at a very lively rate for a while. 
When they stopped to rest a little I was given 
permission to get off my horse. I was so tired 
I threw myself on the ground. When I lay 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 291 

there I thought I heard the distant barking of 
a dog and it made me feel glad to think that 
there might soon be a chance for the deliver- 
ance of us four helpless girls. We resumed our 
travelling till nearly day and stopped in a can- 
yon. When I awoke the sun was shining 
around. They went iip the canyon some dis- 
tance, then came out on the prairie where 
thousands of buffaloes were feeding. The buf- 
faloes did not seem to be very much afraid of 
any one. We were probably a mile from where 
we came out of the canyon. The Indians be- 
came greatly alarmed, saddled fresh horses and 
started in the direction we came, only a little 
more northwest. 

"My little sisters were sitting on the ground. 
Two Indian men were there. These two In- 
dians often carried them on their horses, and 
I thought that was what they would do now; 
but I wanted to see, so I held my horse back. 
They saw me lagging behind, so they came up 
and drove me on, but blamed the horse be- 
cause he was lame and they thought he stayed 
of his own accord. After a while I saw those 
two Indians who were last with Julia and Ad- 
die, and also that my little sisters were not 
with them. I felt that we would all be better 
off if we were out of our misery, but I did not 
like to think of their little bodies being left out 



292 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

there for the bufi'aloes to tramp over and the 
wolves to eat. As soon as I got a chance I told 
Sophia that they had killed Julia and Addie, and 
all she said was, 'they are better off than we 
are.' But God had a hand in that work, and 
I believe you will agree with me when I say 
He wrought a miracle and those little girls 
were taken care of. I never saw the little ones 
any more till June, 1875, when I met them at 
Fort Leavenworth." 

After abandoning these two little girls, each 
of whom was less than ten years old, the In- 
dians began pressing forward more rapidly than 
ever, to reach the vast solitudes of the Pan- 
handle plains country, where the main body of 
Cheyennes had gone, and which the raiders 
reached after a three days' flight. The Chey- 
ennes now divided into small parties, each going 
in different direction, to confuse the trails, and 
make pursuit by the soldiers laborious and dif- 
ficult. Sophia and Catherine became separ- 
ated, each going with a different band. Sophia 
was first in discovering that her two little sis- 
ters were alive — they had been found by other 
Indians. Julia said that she and Adelaide cried 
when they saw the Indians ride away, because 
they were afraid to be alone in such a strange 
wild place, and did not know where to find 
water or anything to eat. They stood in dread 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 293 

of the buffaloes, hundreds of which were near 
at hand. As the Indians rode away, they mo- 
tioned to the little girls to follow them. This 
they tried to do, but finally lost the trail. They 
were abandoned September 25. Sophia scarcely 
had time to embrace the little ones before she 
was carried away by the band that held her 
captive. 

Julia and Addie were with Chief Gray 
Beard's band of Gheyennes. General Miles 
was pressing the Indians upon all sides. His 
command was superior to the combined forces 
of all the hostiles in the southwest and the lat- 
ter could have been annihilated in a single en- 
gagement had it been possible to attack them in 
a position where their only alternative would 
have been to fight their way out. But the In- 
dians were too shrewd to be caught in a trap, 
and were running and dodging in every direc- 
tion — their trails crossed and re-crossed and 
doubled back and turned aside until they were 
a confused jumble. The Indians knew the 
country as accurately as a stream follows its 
own windings. The only fact plain to the scouts 
was that the hostiles were trying to escape to 
the Staked Plains. In this uninhabited and 
practically waterless region a large body of 
troops would have been badly handicapped in 
its pursuit of small bands of the enemy, as the 



294 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

latter could move more rapidly and with greater 
comfort, and in time exhaust the endurance of 
troops travelling in more or less compact for- 
mation. 

General Miles embraced every opportunity 
to employ the tactics of the Indians, and it'was 
the result of this kind of strategy that brought 
Lieutenant Baldwin and his scouts within strik- 
ing distance of Gray Bear's band on McClellan 
Creek. The Indians were so hard-pressed that 
they were forced to abandon Julia and Adelaide 
and much camp equipment. I remember vivid- 
ly the appearance of the deserted camp. We 
had ridden almost past it when somebody 
noticed that a pile of buffalo hides seemed to 
be moving up and down. Pulling the hides 
aside, we were astonished at finding two little 
white girls, who proved to be Julia and Adel- 
aide. They were pitiable objects. Hunger 
and privation had reduced them to mere skele- 
tons, and their little hands and fingers were 
so thin that they resembled bird's claws. The 
children were trembling with fright, but upon 
seeing that we were white men their terror 
changed to a frenzy of joy, and their sobs and 
tears made hardened frontiersmen turn away 
to hide their own emotion. The children said 
that they had not been mis-treated by the men. 
The squaws, however, had forced them to work 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 295 

beyond their strength. The little girls were sent 
to Fort Leavenworth. Their rescue took place 
November 8, 1874. 

Catherine and Sophia Germain were now 
far out on the Staked Plains. We had fought 
the Indians — principally Cheyennes, with a few 
Kiowas — at Tule Canyon on Red River, but 
without capturing them. General Miles, fear- 
ful that the two captives might be wantonly 
killed by the Indians, when the latter found 
themselves in increasing danger of attack or 
capture, employed a Mexican mixed-blood at 
Fort Sill to go to the hostile camp in the Staked 
Plains with a secret message to the Germain 
girls telling them Julia and Adelaide were sale 
and in the hands of friends, and not to become 
discouraged. This message fell into the hands 
of Catherine. It was written on the back of a 
photograph of Julia and Adelaide that had 
been made by W. P. Bliss, shortly after they 
were found by Lieutenant Baldwin's command. 

The Cheyennes that had fled to the Staked 
Plains were under the redoubtable Chief Stone 
Calf. General Miles sent a formal demand for 
surrender to Stone Calf, with the specific provi- 
sion that Catherine and Sophia Germain should 
be brought back alive. Stone Calf and his fol- 
lowers surrendered March 1, 1875, about seven- 



296 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

ty-five miles west of the Darlington Indian 
Agency. 

"Just before the sun set," wrote Catherine 
Germain, "we came to the soldiers' camp. They 
stood at the side of the trail cheering. We 
stopped, but I could hardly say anything, and 
when I think of it now a lump rises in my 
throat. Oh, I was so glad. I thought I had 
never seen such white people. They looked as 
white as snow, but of course they were no whiter 
than the average people, but my being accus- 
tomed to the red people was why they seemed 
so white and pretty. I just lacked a few days 
of being 18 years old when we were re-captured, 
and Sophia was past twelve. We were at the 
Cheyenne Agency (Darlington) three months." 

The warriors who surrendered with Stone 
Calf were stood in a row by General Miles, and 
the Germain girls asked to point out those who 
had engaged in the murder of the other mem- 
bers of the Germain family, or who had mis- 
treated the captives. They pointed out seventy- 
five Indians, all of whom afterwards were sent 
to Florida as prisoners of war. 

General Miles induced the United States 
government to appropriate the sum of $10,000 
for the benefit of the four girls. He was their 
guardian for two or three years. They were 
educated at the expense of the military branch 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 297 

of the Government. All the girls married, and 
some of them are still living. 

The Miles Campaign demonstrated that if 
there should be further Indian outbreaks it 
would be well to mave a garrison within easy 
striking distance of the route that led to the 
Staked Plains. Fort Elliott was established as 
a permanent garrison in the spring of 1875. I 
was with the party that selected the site. I was 
attached as scourt at Fort Elliott, and remained 
in service at that place until 1883. I was the 
last scout to be relieved of duty at that post, 
and when I went away the buffalo was becom- 
ing a rare animal on the Plains and the Indian 
was down and out. 

Cattlemen began going into the Panhandle 
as the Indians went* out. I remember how 
greatly I was surprised when I arrived at the 
Goodnight ranch one day in 1877, and found 
two white ladies — Mrs. Goodnight, who had 
joined her husband the previous year, and Mrs. 
Willingham, whose husband was afterwards 
superintendent of the Turkey Track outfit. 
Both were refined, educated women. I often 
think how helpful such women as Mrs. Good- 
night and Mrs. Willingham have been to Pan- 
handle communities. It required some grit for 
men to live there in those days, and for women 



298 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

the trials and burdens must have been disheart- 
ening. 

The Staked Plains, by reason of the scar- 
city of water in summer, opposed great danger 
to troops in moving through that part of the 
country. I was with Captain Nicholas Nolan, in 
command of Troop A, Tenth United States 
Cavalry, in that memorable experience in Aug- 
ust, 1877, in which the detachment barely es- 
caped death from thirst. Captain Nolan was 
in pursuit of the Quohada band of Comanches, 
who had slipped away from their reservation 
at Fort Sill, Indian Territory. Far out on the 
Staked Plains we joined forces with a party of 
buffalo-hunters who had organized to fight the 
Indians. Captain Nolan told the buffalo-hunt- 
ers that if they would help him find the Indians 
he would agree to do all the fighting, and as- 
sured them that he would do the work to their 
satisfaction. 

Reports were brought in that the Indians 
were only a short distance away, and that it 
might be possible to overtake them by movJng 
quickly. In the excitement, many of the sol- 
diers as well as the buff alo-hunters forgot to fill 
their canteens with water. The Indians eluded 
us, the men were soon out of water, and a dif- 
ference of opinion arose as to where the nearest 
water could be found. Some were in favor of 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 299 

trying for the Double Lakes and some for the 
Laguna Plata. I had been over this country 
from the north, not from the direction we were 
travelling. The men and horses were in a de- 
plorable condition. 

Captain Nolan told Lieutenant Cooper to 
take the course with his compass, which was 
set east by south ten degrees. The buffalo- 
hunters feared the distance was too great, and 
started in another direction, for Laguna 
Plata. Captain Nolan thought the Double 
Lakes were further west than I did. We argued 
over the route until about 3 o'clock in the morn- 
ing, when he told me to go the way I thought 
was right. I at once turned more to the north- 
east. About 5 o'clock I waived my hat to attract 
the attention of the command, and an orderly 
came forward. I sent word to Captain Nolan 
that I thought I saw the Double Lakes. Hap- 
pily, I was not mistaken. We had to dig for 
water, and 11 o'clock had passed before the 
horses were able to quench their thirst. 

The sufferings of both men and horses were 
terrible, and all the way to the Double Lakes 
our trail was strewn with cast-off clothing and 
equipment. The buffalo-hunters were in no 
less desperate straits, many of them, like the 
soldiers, dropping down to die along the way. 
Horses were killed that their blood might be 



300 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

drank to assuage the fever of burning throats 
and tongues. The butf alo-hunters finally reached 
water at the Casa Amarilla. Both outfits car- 
ried water back to fallen comrades and revived 
them. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

RETURNING to civilian life in 1883, I struck 
north from Fort Elliott and went over on 
the Canadian River, in what is now Hutchinson 
county, Texas, and hired to a big cow outfit that 
became widely known as the Turkey Track 
Ranch, owned by a Scotch syndicate, and then 
inanaged by C. B. Willingham. That same year 
I filed on two sections of land on Bent Creek, 
taking in the site of the original Adobe Walls 
ruins. I built my house right at the west edge 
of the old sod building which by that time 
stock had rubbed to the ground. In the front 
yard, however, when the south wind swept the 
dirt clear, could still be seen the foundations 
of the old ruins. Whoever built those walls 
certainly built them well. 

When I homesteaded my two sections of 
school land and built my house at Adobe Walls, 
I expected to live there the balance of my days, 
contented and happy. Everything was to my 
liking — pure air, good water, fruitful soil, game, 
and room enough for a man to turn round 
without stepping on some fellows toes. It was 
the land of my boyhood dreams, and I was 
satisfied. 

I improved my ranch in many ways. I di- 




'Billy'' Dixon, as He Appeared in Recent Years. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 303 

verted the course of Bent Greek until its clear, 
swift waters flowed almost at my doorstep, and 
was able to undertake extensive irrigation, i 
planted an orchard of 200 carefully selected 
trees, consisting of apples, peaches, pears, 
plums, apricots and cherries, together with a 
small vineyard. I am confident that this was 
the first orchard ever planted in Hutchinson 
county, perhaps in the northern Panhandle. It 
was well irrigated, and the orchard thrived as- 
tonishingly. There was not a better orchard in 
the southwest, and some of the trees are still 
standing. In my yard I set out a number of 
cottonwoods which grew rapidly and became 
big, strong trees, affording generous shade in 
hot summer. I am sure that my thirty acres 
of alfalfa was the first ever seen in that section. 
For many years it produced an unfaihng and 
profitable crop. 

In those days our nearest postoflice was 
Zulu, on Palo Duro, twenty-five or thirty miles 
distant. One day L. B. Miller, then district at- 
torney, now practicing law at AUenreed, Texas, 
was at the Turkey Track Ranch. He heard 
about the way we had to go for mail, and said 
that he would have a postoffice established at 
the ranch and make me postmaster. I received 
my commission and was postmaster at Adobe 
Walls for nearly twenty years, first at the ranch 



304 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

and later at my home. When I moved down to 
my own place I opened a little store, carrying 
in stock such simple things as would supply 
cowboy trade. It may cause a smile when I 
say that my two most important articles of 
merchandise were candy and chewing gum. 
No schoolgirl could be as foolish as a cowboy 
about candy and chewing gum. The boys 
seemed to crave such things, and bought more 
candy and chewing gum than they did tobacco. 

The little log house, to be seen in an ac- 
companying illustration, stands on the ruins of 
the first Adobe Walls. I built the house in 
1883, shortly after I filed on my claim. It is 
fourteen feet square, and stands a mile south 
of where the fight took place. 

The illustration showing the bluff on the 
east side of Adobe Walls Creek is a excellent 
view of the landscape. In coming to attack 
Adobe Walls in the early morning, the Indians 
rode up the valley from the right, and were 
first discovered near the grove of trees. 

Mine was a happy life in my cabin at Adobe 
Walls, wdthout fret or worry, and with abi<nd- 
ance of everything for my simple needs. Dur- 
ing a greater part of the year wild ducks and 
geese frequented the Canadian and its tribu- 
taries, literally by thousands, and deer and 
turkey were commonly found along the creeks. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 305 

The meat of the buffalo, in my opinion, 
had a much better taste than beef, and was more 
easily digested. I was always a big meat eater, 
and often long for a good fat buffalo steak 
broiled over a camp-fire in the way "Frenchie," 
my old cook, used to broil it. When we were 
camped on a creek where wild turkeys were 
plentiful, we would kill fifteen or twenty and 
stew a potful of gizzards, hearts and livers. 
This was best of all, a dish fit for a king, and 
a man who never ate it can have no idea how 
good it was. 

I lived here as a bachelor until I married 
in 1894, after which I continued at Adobe Walls 
until about 1902, when I sold my ranch and 
moved to Plemons, Texas. There 1 lived two 
years, and found living in town worse than it 
could have been in jail. I decided to go still 
further west, and in 1906 homesteaded a claim 
in what was then known as Beaver County, 
Oklahoma, once called "No Man's Land." My 
place was in sight of Buffalo Springs, and on the 
north line of the Panhandle. 

A change in local conditions began in 1887. 
In that year a good many "nesters," small farm- 
ers began coming in and taking up the land. 
They were bitterly opposed by the big cow out- 
fits, none of which wanted to see the country 
fenced, and felt that the settlers were intruding 

20D 



306 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

into a country where they did not belong and 
where they certainly were not wanted. I rather 
think that the cow outfits felt that they had won 
the country from the Indians and were en- 
titled to it by right of conquest and occupancy. 
But the "nesters" forced the cow outfits to 
leave, just as the buffalo-hunters and the sol- 
diers had made the Indians depart. Today the 
despised "nester" is the bone and sinew of the 
Panhandle country, and whatever social and 
material advancement the country had made 
should be credited mostly to those who built 
homes and school houses and churches, and 
tamed the wild land to the crops of civiliza- 
tion. I do not wish to say anything against the 
cow-men. They were big-hearted, generous 
fellows, who followed their own way as they 
saw it. Between the two classes there was 
much conflict; time, however, solves its prob- 
lems, and solved them in the Panhandle. 

Among the small stockmen who moved 
their families to the Panhandle in 1887 were 
the Lards, Ledricks and Walstads, all coming 
down from Kansas. The Lard and Ledrick 
families located on Chicken Creek. The Wal- 
stad family lived first on Wolf Creek, moving 
later to the "flats" in Ochiltree County. The 
Walstads were sturdy Norwegians and not 
afraid to work. To improve their place on the 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 307 

"flats", they cut cedar pickets in Government 
Canyon, ten miles away, and "snaked" them 
up the steep bluffs with a horse — the place 
was too rough for a team to descend. Never- 
theless, they constructed a good-sized, com- 
fortable dwelling out of these pickets, and 
covered it with dirt. Water was scarce on 
the "flats," the Walstads hauling it ten or 
fifteen miles the first year. Mr. Walstad un- 
dertook to dig a well by hand, something that 
no man before nor since has ever tried in 
that country. He was not financially able to 
bore a well, and did not know that it was 
anywhere from 300 to 400 feet to water. He 
got down about 200 feet and threw up the 
sponge — the sponge was dry. 

The girls in the Walstad family were all 
splendid riders, as good as could be found 
in the Panhandle, and could rope a cow or 
a horse as easily as a man. They rode long 
distances after stock in all kinds of weather. 

The Lards and Ledricks prospered on 
Chicken Creek. Henry Ledrick had been a 
post-trader in Kansas, and had lost all his 
property as the result of Indian raids. The 
Government afterwards compensated him for 
his losses. By intermarriage these families 
have established themselves in many of the 
Panhandle counties. 



308 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

For years I was justice of the peace in 
Hutchinson County. The hardest job I ever 
tackled was to perform a marriage ceremony, 
though I married many couples. Ministers 
were as scarce as buffaloes, and when a couple 
decided to get "spliced" they went to the 




Dixon Orchard at Adobe Walls. 

nearest justice of the peace or county judge. 
My usual embarassment in marying a couple 
was once increased beyond measure. I had 
grown to be very fond of a young lady who 
lived with Mrs. Willingham on the Turkey 
Track, but had never been able to muster 
courage to tell her how much I thought of her 
and to ask her to marry me. Well, a pesky 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 309 

cowboy did what I had not been able to do, 
and the two came to have me tie the conjugal 
knot. I thought that it was hard enough to 
lose the girl, but to be asked to marry her 
to another fellow was certainly tough. 

Some of the large outfits controlled entire 
counties for range purposes — and the Pan- 
handle counties were big counties. The Hans- 
ford Land & Cattle Company (the "Turkey 
Track" outfit) run 50,000 head of cattle at one 
time, and ranged over thousands of acres of 
land. 

The Turkey Track outfit tried to escape 
the inevitable by buying out "nester" who 
came into the country in the late 80's, and in 
this way held all the land, save mine at Abode 
Walls. The Texas legislature opened up the 
land to purchase and settlement, and in the 
90's the settlers began coming and could not 
be stopped. They settled first along the creeks 
and then spread to the uplands. I was State 
land commissioner for Hutchinson County and 
did a thriving business. 

The people petitioned the Legislature that 
Hutchinson County be detached from Roberts 
County, and given a separate organization. 
Their petition was granted. An election was 
called for the election of County officers. 
Much ill feeling had grown up between the 



310 Life of **Billy" Dixon 

settlers and the cow outfits, especially the 
Turkey Track people who had opposed the 
making of a new county. The election was 
bitterly contested, the Turkey Track outfit 
taking an active part, to control the results. 
I was elected sheriff, not because I sought the 
office, but because I had lived in the country 
so long that I was widely known. I was 
ignorant of politics and the ways of politicians. 
I became disgusted and resigned my office, 
rather than be forced into strife that was not 
to my liking, and went back to the quietude 
of Abode Walls. The County Judge also 
resigned. When a man gets mixed up in 
politics he is soon travelling a rocky road. 

However, I do not hold enmity against 
anybody. Many changes have taken place in 
Hutchinson County since that time, and today 
it is settled with law-abiding, prosperous stock- 
men and farmers. The Turkey Track sold out 
to a Kansas coriipany, who also bought my 
place at Abode Walls. 

I married Miss Olive King in 1894. She 
had come from Virginia to visit her brothers, 
Albert and Archie King, and the winter before 
we were married she had taught school on the 
south side of the Canadian, between Reynolds 
and Tallahone Creeks. This school house was 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 311 

built of round cottonwood logs, covered with 
dirt, and was about ten feet square. 

I had always been rather bashful in the 
presence of women, rarely having had oppor- 
tunity to meet them in a social way. Merely 
the sight of a good-looking woman coming in 
my direction made me feel like leaving the 
trail. How I ever managed to ask my wife 
to marry me has always been a mystery, made 
even more remarkable by the fact that she 
consented. I have always insisted that she 
did the proposing, but could say no more when 
she reminded me of the time we were riding 
together and watered our horses at Garden 
Springs one September afternoon, and of the 
promise I made her at that time. 

We were married October 18, 1894, on 
Reynolds Creek at the home of a Portugese 
family named Lewis, where my wife had 
boarded during the winter. The Lewis's were 
running about 200 head of cattle and had a 
comfortable home. Mrs. Lewis was a culti- 
vated woman. She spoke English brokenly, 
and to make herself more familiar with the 
language had induced my wife to live with 
her. Mrs. Lewis had been a good friend of 
mine for several years, and I suspect that it 
was largely through her influence that I got 
the girl I so greatly admired. 



312 



Life of "Billy" Dixon 



We have been living together nearly nine- 
teen years. She has borne me a family of 
which I feel that I am justly proud, and has 
stood by me in all my ups and downs. It is 
largely through her efforts that these remi- 
niscences are pubhshed. I never took the 
interest that I should in setting down these 
matters, and realize that the work should have 




An Adobe Corral Built bij ''Billy" Dixon. 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 313 

been done years ago, in obedience to the re- 
quests of life-long friends. 

We were married by a Methodist minister, 
the Rev. C. V. Bailey, who drove seventy-five 
miles from Mobeetie to perform the ceremony. 
After our marriage, my wife for a period of 
three years, was the only woman who actually 
lived in Hutchinson County. She may have 
grown a bit lonesome, but if she did she never 
said anything about it. I had the advantage 
of being able to say, without making any other 
man angry, that I had the best looking woman 
in the County. It was not every woman who 
had lived in a thickly settled community all 
her life that would have been willing to settle 
down at Abode Walls. 

When Patten, Price & Hyde, the Kansas 
cattlemen, bought the Turkey Track range and 
stock, I sold my place at Abode Walls to them. 
My older children by this time were in need 
of schooling. The settlers were so few that 
there was no neighborhood school, so we 
moved to Plemons and lived there for two 
years before locating in Cimarron County, 
then Beaver County, which is settled by the 
best type of rugged American citizenship. 
They are temperate, law-abiding, industrious 
people. Most of them were poor at the begin- 
ning, and many have had a hard time getting 



314 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

started. All have the true western spirit. If 
a settler is in trouble, caused by sickness, death 
or other unavoidable misfortune, his neighbors 
are always ready to help him, even putting in 
his crops for him. 

I am often questioned about my experi- 
ences on the frontier, as if the life had been 
filled with unbearable hardships, to be shunned 
and forgotten. Gladly would I live it all over 
again, such is my cast of mind and my hunger 
for the freedom of the big wide places. I 
would run the risks and endure all the hard- 
ships that were naturally ours just for the 
contentment and freedom to be found in such 
an outdoor life. I should be unspeakably 
happy once more to feast on buffalo meat and 
other wild game cooked on a camp-fire, sour 
dough biscuit and black coffee, that latter 
drank from a quart cup. 

But those days are gone and forever, and 
we must content ourselves with the present 
and make the best of our opportunities. Com- 
ing generation will never know the trials and 
hardships we endured. We helped build a 
great empire in the west. 

Let it be governed justly and made to 
serve the needs of humanity. 
THE END. 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Page. 

The Fight at Adobe Walls Frontispiece 

From an oil painting by Miss Gwynfred Jones, 
Hansford, Texas, from her sketches of the 
battleground, as corrected by "Billy" Dixon. 

Buflaloes — ""Just As They Looked in the 

Old Daysr 28 

Satank, the Old Tiger of the Kiowas 58 

Indian Ration Day at Fort Sill, Oklahoma 64 

Wood-Hauler Found Scalped Near Fort 

Dodge 82 

There are few photographs of this kind in 
existence. 

''Billy'* Dixon in His Prime as a Scout 

and Plainsman 106 

Indian Camp of Buffalo Hide Tepees 128 

In this camp Chief Kicking Bird, Kiowa, was 
poisoned by his enemies, because of his un- 
willingness to sanction the Indian warfare 
against the United States government. 

James H. Cator, Zula, Texas, Panhandle 

Pioneer 160 

''Billy" Dixon's Log Homestead on Site of 

Original Adobe Walls 172 

Chief Quanah Parker of the Comanches 202 



316 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

Page. 

High Bluff East of Adobe Walls on which 

Dixon Killed Indian at 1200 Yards 232 

Ermoke and His Band of Murderous Kio- 
wa Raiders 256 

These Indians are typical of the kind that 
roamed the Plains country. 

Drew Dixon, Son of "Billy" Dixon— 'A 

Sure Shot, Like His Father*' 274 

**Billy" Dixon, as He Appeared in Recent 

Years 302 

Dixon Orchard at Adobe Walls 308 

Adobe Corral Built by ''Billy'' Dixon 312 



INDEX 



CHAPTER I. 

Page. 
Preface — Introductory — What "Bat" Masterson Said of 
"Billy" Dixon — How the Story of His Life Was 
Written — ^Mrs. Dixon's Devoted Industry in Setting 
Down the Facts of Her Husband's Life — Facina- 
tion of the Plains Country 10 

CHAPTER n. 

Dixon's Birth and Boyhood — Death of His Parents — 
From West Virginia to Home of Uncle in Mis- 
souri — Lured by Romance of Plains, the Boy 
Starts in Search of Adventure — Reaches Leaven- 
worth, Kas., and jBecomts a Bull -Whacker — 
Across the Plains — Hires to Farmer McCall 17 



CHAPTER HI. 

To Fort Harker with a Drove of "Shave-tails" — Kills 
His First Buffalo — The Medicine Lodge Treaty — 
Approaching Indians — Stirring Scenes — General 
Harney — Satanta and Htis Horse — Back to Fort 
Harker — Prairie Fires 4t> 

CHAPTER IV. 

To Baxter Springs, Kas., in 1868 — Hauling Munitions 
of War to Camp Supply for the Custer Expedi- 
tion — All the Mules Stampede in Harness — Now 
Eighteen Years Old and as Hard as Nails — Begins 
Hunting Buffaloes for their Hides — Establishes a 
Road Ranch South of Hays City — Lost at Night.... 76 



318 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

CHAPTER V. 

Page. 
Dodge City in 1872 — Dixon Never Danced or Gambled 
— "Cranky" MoCabe — Dangerous Country South of 
the Arkansas — Indian Scare — Name at Boiling 
Spring on the South Pawnee — Sham Duel — On the 
Cimarron in 1873 — Prowling Cheyennes — Company 
M and the Al Frio — History of Buffalo Spring 104 

CHAPTER VI. 

Down in the Texas Panhandle — Ruins of Original 
Adobe Walls — Back to Dodge City— Fitting Out of 
Big Expedition to Hunt Buffaloes — The Tempest- 
uous and Spectacular Fairchild — Night Camp in 
the Plains Country — Dancing on a Dry Buffalo 
Hide — Floods and Quicksands — Meets Jim and Bob 
Cator — Fun with Fairchild 142 

CHAPTER Vn. 

The Buffalo -Hunters Establish Themselves at Adobe 
Walls and Erect Buildings — Origin of old Adobe 
Walls — A Long Circle in Search of the Best Hunt- 
ing Grounds — Roaring of the Vast Herd — Business 
Begins in Earnest — Caught in Canadian Quick- 
sands — ^News at Adobe Walls of Indian Outbreaks 
— Dixon Forms Hunting Partnership with Han- 
rahan — Location of Buildings at Adobe Walls — 
Fancied Security 171 

CHAPTER Vni. 

A Thousand Indians Attack Adobe Walls at Dawn — 
Dixon Tries to Save His Horse — Escape of Billy 
Ogg— The First Mighty Warwhoop— The Battle 
Begins — Indians Charge to the Sound of a Bugle — 
Bugler Shot — Dixon's Marksmanship — Indians no 
Match for Hunters — Running for Supply of Am- 
munition — The Shadlers and Billy Tyler Killed.... 200 



Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 319 
CHAPTER IX. 

Page. 
Dixon s Fall in Rath's Store— Companions Fear He is 
Shot — ^Dead Wari^ior's Lanae — Dismal Cawing- of 
Pet Crow— Wounded Horses— Killing an Indian at 
1200 Yards— Henry Lease Goes for Help— Old Man 
Bellfleld and the Black Flag — Death of William 
Olds — Lost Relics 218 

CHAPTER X. 

Depredations of Indians— Quanah Parker — Buffalo- 
Hunting Abandoned — Departure for Dodge City 

Dixon Becomes a Scout Under General Miles — 
Back to Adobe Walls with Lieutenant Frank Bald- 
win—Indians Kill George Huffman in Sight of 
Soldiers— Terror of the Negro Cook— Pleasing 
Story of Dixon's Dog Fannie and Her Pups 237 

CHAPTER XI. 

Dixon's Most Perilous Adventure — Buffalo Wallow 
Fight— Terrible Suffering of Wounded Compan- 
ions — Rescues Amos Chapman — Indians Charging 
Upon all Sides— Saved by a Cold September Rain 
—The Long, Dreary Night— Death of Smith— Dixon 
Starts for Aid— Meets Wagon Train Escorted by 
Major Price — Heartless Indifference to Wounded 
Men — Help Comes from General Miles— The Medal 
of Honor Awarded 254 

CHAPTER XII. 

Blizzard Experience—Shooting at Jack Stilwell's Ear— 
Indignaition and Horror of Old Army Officer — 
Rescue of the Germain Captives — Finding of Julia 
and Adelaide in Gray Beard's Deserted Camp — ^Piti- 
able Objects — Catherine and Sophia Carried to the 
Staked Plains— Restored by' Chief Stone Calf — 
With iCaptain Nolan on v'the Staked Plains — No 
Water— Finds Double Lakes and Saves Command.... 281 



320 Life of "Billy" Dixon 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Page. 
Back to Civilian Life — Builds His Home at Old Adobe 
Walls — Plants First Alfalfa in Panhandle — The 
Dixon Orchard — Appointed Postmaster — Candy 
and Chewing Gum for the Cowboys — Married in 
1894 — Serves as Justice -of -the-Peace and Sher- 
iff — Panhandlte Pioneers — Changinig Condttions — 
Breaking up of Big Cattle Ranches — Dixon Goes 
Further West to Cimarron County — Would Live it 
All Over Again — Helped Build an Empire in the 
West 301 



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